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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829546">Shadows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketProtector/pseuds/PocketProtector'>PocketProtector</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Life in the Shadows [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>18th Century law, Action/Adventure, Angst, Cass either needs a hug or a talking to, Complicated split-personality, Execution, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt and comfort, Imprisonment, Magical obsession, Major Injury, Moon Powers Cassandra (Disney: Tangled), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Revenge, There's a moral to this story, Torture, Trauma, Treason, why can't we be friends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>88,729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketProtector/pseuds/PocketProtector</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Burned by Princess Rapunzel's betrayal, Cassandra declares war on her homeland Corona. As the wielder of the destructive magical object, The Moonstone, and the most skilled warrior in the kingdom, no one can stand in the way of Cassandra and domination. No one, that is, except the one who trained her.</p><p>After enduring excruciating pain and subjugation at the hands of former friends, Cassandra's only hope for conquest lies in obtaining Rapunzel's Sundrop. If she fails, she will be condemned to life-long imprisonment or death. If she succeeds, she will lose everything she's ever loved.</p><p>Starts at the end of "Once a handmaiden..." season 3 episode, mostly canon compliant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Queen Arianna of Corona/King Frederic of Corona (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Life in the Shadows [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Battle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                                                             PART ONE</p><p> </p><p>“Corona falls today!”</p><p>Cassandra’s battle cry shot through the festive courtyard and into the hearts of the trembling bystanders. The people who used to be her neighbors, co-workers, and friends held their breath and clutched their loved ones or wet themselves. And then they ran. Screaming.</p><p>Cassandra sneered at their backs. She felt no remorse or pity for the cowards. They’d made quite clear who’s side they were on. They all supported their oh so precious princess who only ever sought to deny Cass her rights and keep her invisible, voiceless, and in her “proper place”. But no more. Now it was their turn to feel the pain of being powerless and cast aside.</p><p>Now they would all pay.</p><p>Cassandra commanded her black rocks to rage around them. Cobblestones were knocked from their plots. The very earth opened to consume those that opposed. Wiser citizens ran for safety they would not find. There was no crevice she would not soon rule, no place they would be able to hide and plan her fall. She was inevitable. She was strength.</p><p>Cass leapt over one of the many cages she’d created to contain the royal guards that rushed her and sent a chunk of rubble flying for the inexperienced Captain Fitzherbert at the gates. She smiled at his cry as it slammed him flat against the cracking wall.</p><p>A dozen more shield bearing, stone-faced, guards charged her head-on but were flung back by her rocks before they could reach her. The next wave of men took their place, running with shield and sword at the ready and she batted them aside just as easily. They were hardly a distraction from what had caught her eye on the horizon. Draped across her father’s old horse and barreling at top speed away from the palace and toward the fiery setting sun, was her prize and curse: The Sundrop and the Princess. The second stone of power was still within her former best friend. And now they were both vanishing from sight.</p><p>Cass allowed the next golden canned guard closer and disarmed him before kneeing him in the face with a cry of frustration. The vicious crunch of his nose hardly made her feel any better.</p><p>She looked again to the shrinking figures and took a deep breath. This development changed very little. She would get Rapunzel back once her victory over the castle was secured. One step at a time. She didn’t need the Sundrop to defeat this sorry lot, she hardly needed the Moonstone. She wouldn’t have needed to fight at all if Rapunzel hadn’t betrayed her and made a mess of things as usual.</p><p>Cassandra had come to reconcile with the princess and make things right by her. She’d had no intention of attacking. But from the moment her shield of the docile handmaid’s identity fell away, Cass had been attacked. Fired upon, encased in amber, and thrown under a net as though a monstrous animal… all for the crime of merely showing her face. She’d been a fool to believe things could change, could be talked out.</p><p>The relationship between she and the princess would never change. They would always be on unequal ground. Their friendship had been nothing but another lie forced into the wood-work of Cassandra’s life.</p><p>She’d been a fool to have considered reconciling— <em>surrendering</em> even. But now… surrender was as likely to happen as the falling of the moon from the sky. She would not be caged. Death would come first. And that was even less likely to happen. Well, her own death anyway.</p><p>All that was Rapunzel’s, all that had magically fallen into the princess’ lap, would be Cassandra’s now. She would make sure of it. Every last piece. And as the Crown Princess… didn’t the lives of the citizens belong to the blonde as well? But maybe Cass would leave such crumbs.</p><p>However, she would claim their respect. Adoration, Cass no longer needed. Their fear would suffice to keep them from being anything other than the simple-minded peasants they were. The sun-splotch could keep their blind love.</p><p>Soon, the sundrop would also be hers and then they would know true power. Then they would know what it’s like to be lost in the shadows. <em>Her</em> shadows. And they would never fade.</p><p>“Cassandra!” Eugene called, having regained his dignity and stood boldly—<em>stupidly</em>— between Cass and her Sundrop. “I’m putting a stop to this right now!”</p><p>“Oh this ought to be good!” Cass laughed at the sad challenge but still, a challenge was a challenge. She humored the new Captain and summoned her sword.</p><p>As it turned out, the shadow blade was completely unnecessary. The fight—if something that lasted all of five seconds could be called a fight—was over before it began.</p><p>Re-sheathing her blade and waving a barrage of rocks into action to keep the soldiers behind her busy, Cass swaggered over to the downed and groaning Captain. She said with a pout, “Must be hard to fight in shoes that were never meant for you, huh buddy?”</p><p>Eugene scowled. “Your father recommended me.”</p><p>“Not the first shameful decision he’s made,” Cass said with a shrug.</p><p>A new wave of fearful shrieks caught Cass’s attention and had her stopping a racing rock about to skewer a young boy frozen against a wall. A woman snatched him away and pointed to the untouched structure before them, shouting, “Everyone to the palace, we’ll be safe there!”</p><p>Cassandra smirked. Time for her pawns to join the game.</p><p>Leaving the recommended-Captain to struggle to his feet, Cass pulled the glowing Mind Trap stone from her satchel and silently ordered her own soldiers into play. “Sorry,” She called up to the desperate crowd, “But the castle’s off limits.”</p><p>Her brainwashed warriors, along with their hulking rhinoceros and bearcats, appeared in time to block the castle’s entrance and force the people back into the chaotic courtyard.</p><p>A near-miss from the amber gun had Cassandra tuning back into the battle around her. The cloudy blasts started coming in rapid succession but she blocked each with a black rock. The amber blew apart each upon impact. Boosting herself on a jagged stump, she flipped out of the path of another shot and bowled a row of black peaks around the assailant. That should hold him. Still, she willed her magic to keep striking throughout the royal’s ranks.</p><p>Panting in the grainy dirt and dust clogged air, Cassandra crouched behind one of her rocks and let the unevenly matched battle continue around her.</p><p>This was a waste. They were wasting their time, breath, and effort in trying to stop her. But Cass had to admit she was enjoying the toying. Let them tire, let them push. She would walk over their hopeless remains soon enough. Their rubble would pave the way to her throne nicely. She might even have Rapunzel paint the scene for her new bedroom.</p><p>Another whooshing blast of the amber exploded behind her and she sighed. That thing was a nuisance. Cass laid her hand against the ground and bid her rocks to snuff out the gadget. The shattering death of the weapon was melodious to her ears.</p><p>Above the clanging of dueling blades and grunts and groans of the guards, she heard the dark king cry, “Son! You cannot protect a kingdom while being trapped inside of it.”</p><p>Wise words. But she had no desire to keep such company here. With a thought, Cass directed her mind-trapped soldiers to herd everyone from the palace grounds. Then she stood.</p><p>It was time to end this.</p><p>She had offered to leave Corona in peace before— but now she would leave it in pieces.</p><p>As though he had a choice, Eugene took one look at her emerging from the smoke—unscathed—and shouted, “Everyone fall back!”</p><p>Cass grinned at her victory but launched a tidal wave of rocks to seal the deal.</p><p>Eugene spun out of the black rocks’ path and hesitated at the gates. The one-armed king pushed his son to join the fleeing masses and said, “Come, we will regroup elsewhere!”</p><p>Eugene stood his ground, just watching her.</p><p>Cass roared and sent several more thundering rocks his way but still he remained in the square. Did he have a death wish?</p><p>The king growled, “You can’t help her, son, it’s your people that need you now. Think of Rapunzel.”</p><p>Cassandra watched Eugene pull from the king’s grasp. “I am,” The idiot said, “I’ll meet you with the others later. Go!”</p><p>He was persistent, she’d give him that. Persistent as a mosquito.</p><p>Not breaking the sudden silence in the square, Cassandra sent her soldiers to stand sentry outside the gate and didn’t bother drawing her sword as Eugene approached her amongst the rubble once again. Cass snorted when he raised his sword. She said, “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any more idiotic.”</p><p>The young Captain remained steadfast and only glared. Cass could see the sweat running from his brow and cutting a trail through a layer of grime and hear how he labored to take in each quick breath. While it was clear he was exhausted, his blade held sure.</p><p>“Fine. If you want to stay so badly…” Cassandra lifted her hand and her rocks followed her bidding.</p><p>Eugene spun away from her as a large, impenetrable, rumbling wall rose behind him. The gate and world beyond disappeared from view as it grew high above their heads. She cupped her hands to shape its ends into a dome and left it to settle heavily against and around the exterior of the palace’s entry wall. It left much of the castle still vulnerable, but it was only temporary and was only meant to keep in rather than keep out.</p><p>Satisfied with the structure, Cass walked away from her gaping prisoner. She rapped a knuckle against a cage that held one of her other gaping, foolish, prisoners as she sauntered by and tossed over her shoulder, “You can keep your men company.”</p><p>Cassandra didn’t pause as Eugene called after her, “Rapunzel won’t take lightly to what you’ve done, Cass! I hope you’re prepared to deal with whatever counter measure she comes up with because you should know by now not to underestimate her. Rapunzel <em>will</em> find a way in once she wakes up.”</p><p>Cass smiled as she ascended the steps to her newest conquest. “I’m counting on it.”                         </p>
<hr/><p>The palace hadn’t changed in the slightest since she’d last been inside it’s walls. Pristine white pillars still supported the ceilings. Fresh flowers sat unwilted and undisturbed in their porcelain vases. Dust-free candelabras and golden threaded tapestries lined the halls. Cassandra redecorated each hall with a few hundred black rocks.</p><p>As she made her way to the throne room, she took a small detour into one of the many studies. Interspersed between towering and well-stocked bookcases were dozens of paintings of past royals; princesses, princes, kings, queens, and even some dukes. Royals that her ancestors—well her <em>adopted</em> ancestors—served, fought for, and died for. Cass knew there wasn’t a single painting in the castle that was dedicated to her line of the Captains of the Royal Guard or other heroes of their kingdom. Not even a pathetic bust.</p><p>This was a lesson she’d learned the hard way: In Corona, the only way to obtain honor or due credit was to be in a place of power and take it from those that have actually earned it.</p><p>But that changed today. Today, the power finally belonged to someone that deserved it.</p><p>Cass sheathed her sword as she left the study with its new shredded art and marched through the doors of the throne room. The grand space was just as unchanged as the rest of the palace had been. The familiar sweet aromas of orchid and rose mixed with sterile soap still hung in the air. The three thrones for the royal family still sat proud upon the dais but were now swathed in shadows. And though moonbeams shone through the high stained-glass windows, they were unable to banish the dark blanketing the room.</p><p>As Cassandra ascended the dais, gaze locked on her throne, she found that for the first time she didn’t mind being in the shadows. She would not be forgotten in them now. It would be a long time before anyone forgot her name. It would ring in reverent hailing from every tongue throughout the land from this day forward.</p><p>“Cassandra!”</p><p>She froze on the top step at Eugene’s shout and her sleek armor clicked as she clenched her fists. This mosquito was flying around her too often. She forced herself not to reach for her sword or rocks and instead turned with a hand on her hip. “Does your pea brain already need stimulation?”</p><p>The young captain’s creaking boots tracked dirt across her new throne room’s plush rug as he crept towards her, sword point first, as though she were a snake poised to strike. “I need you to step down from there and hand over the Moonstone, Cass.”</p><p>Her brows shot up. “Would you like me to sprout wings and fly around the room too?”</p><p>“No that won’t be necessary, giving me the Moonstone will be delightful enough. After that, we can settle this the good old-fashioned way.”</p><p>Cass’s short laugh cut through the room. “You don’t even stand a chance against me in a regular fight, Fitzherbert.”</p><p>“Maybe not, but I’m the Captain now and I’m not going to let you get away with this as long as I’m still standing.”</p><p>The shadow blade sang shrilly as it slid free of its sheath. Cass prowled down the steps. “Then let me fix that.”</p><p>Eugene stopped mid-way down the carpet. “Though I believe you to be entirely capable, I don’t think you will.”</p><p>“You sure about that?” Cassandra said, “My dad tried to stop me too, you know. I trapped him in a tomb.”</p><p>“I heard,” Eugene said with a nod, gaze darting around the mostly empty room. “But you didn’t kill him. He stood against you but you let him live. Why?”</p><p>“He’s my father.” Cass stalked closer. “We’re not related, <em>Captain</em>. What makes you think I’ll spare you? I don’t need you alive to be useful bait.”</p><p>“Okay that’s terrifying,” Eugene said, backing up a step, eyes still straying. “But look, I was just out there in the courtyard, remember? I saw everything you did… and everything you <em>didn’t </em>do, Cass. Sure, almost everyone involved will walk away with some pretty nasty bruises and may be limping for a while, and clean-up is going to be <em>quite</em> the pain but you didn’t cross any major lines.”</p><p>“So I need to get my hands dirty for you to take me seriously?”</p><p>“No, and again, I don’t think you will. You have a lot of anger; I can see that and maybe understand it. But I can also see that Rapunzel’s been right all along…” Eugene paused and— lowering his sword to his side— had the gall to extend his free hand, palm up. A small sappy smile lit his face. “You’re still in there. And I’m not giving up on you either.”</p><p>Cassandra glanced at his offered hand, unimpressed. “And here I thought you wanted to fight, not hold hands.”</p><p>The hope flickered in his eyes but he pressed on, saying, “I want you to come back to us. Come back to your right mind. None of this is the real you. Please…”</p><p>Her lip curled at the insult to her sanity but despite that, she found herself lowering her sword an inch. A voice in the back of her mind was pleading with her to listen, telling her he was right. Maybe it wasn’t too late to return things to normal.</p><p>Eugene inhaled shakily and rolled a step closer. “Surrender, Cassandra.”</p><p>With those two words, Cass dismissed the doubts. Things would never return to normal now and even if they did, she could never go back to kissing the feet that stepped all over her. And she knew what awaited her if she surrendered; she wasn’t daft. Either alternative only promised her pain and silence. No, surrender would never come.</p><p>Cassandra slid up to the prince and smirked at his flinch as she placed the tip of her blade under his chin. She whispered, “And if I don’t?”</p><p>Her eyes widened as her father’s saddened voice arose from behind, “Then I’m afraid it’s come to this.”</p><p>Cass spun on her heel, blade slicing through the air, but she wasn’t in time to stop the solid candle holder from slamming into her head nor the darkness that sent her sprawling to the floor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Royal Dungeon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      Day One</p><p>A tidal wave of freezing water slapped Cassandra into consciousness. </p><p>“Rise and shine,” A low voice said.</p><p>Cass spit out the water that had forced its way into her mouth and glared up through her soaked bangs at the stoic guard with the bucket. He retreated to fall in line with his comrades facing her along the front wall of the dark and cobweb covered stone cell.</p><p>Her breath caught. She was in a cell.</p><p>“I just gotta say, I can’t believe… that <em>worked!”</em> Eugene said, beaming from the center of the red and gold wall. “Who knew your dad could be so sneaky, am I right? If the whole captain thing hadn’t worked out, he could’ve made a decent thief!”</p><p>Right, the battle, her victory… and then her <em>father</em>. His actions had brought her here; Chained to the grimy floor of the enclosed pit of an interrogation cell… on her knees.</p><p>As Cass tested the solidness of the dense shackles suspending her arms over her head, she noted how all the men before her were sporting minor scrapes and bruises, yet they held their heads high, their backs straight in only the way victory can make one stand. They thought she’d lost. </p><p>She would remedy that quickly. </p><p>Cassandra could still feel the thrumming of the Moonstone’s power within her; could feel its overwhelming strength waiting to be set loose at her command. Cass couldn’t believe they’d overlooked disarming her of her greatest weapon—but she wouldn’t complain or judge. She’d made mistakes of her own. Underestimating their willingness to use underhanded tactics had been her mistake. </p><p>Waking her up was their mistake.</p><p>“But in all seriousness,” Eugene continued, “How’s your head feeling? That was a pretty hard hit you took last night.”</p><p>Cass smirked. “It’s feeling better than yours will in a minute.”</p><p>Rather than react reasonably to the threat like a sane person, Eugene crossed the small distance between them and crouched in front of her. His brow creased in concern as he looked into her eyes intently. “I’m going to chalk the lack of your awareness of your present situation up to either the fact that you just woke up or a possible concussion…” He lifted a finger in his own face, moving it rapidly side-to-side. “Can you follow my finger?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t get so confident prematurely. You do know that the black rocks can cut through anything, right? Including chains.” Cassandra delighted in the fear that rushed into the prince’s features as the Moonstone’s lightening began to crackle around her. </p><p>Eugene didn’t move away or even reach for his sword as he said, “I wouldn’t—!” </p><p>Cass cried out as a hundred sharp points jabbed into her from all directions then retreated. Gasping and shaking in her binds, she looked down to see the damage from all the blades that must’ve pierced her, but she saw nothing. No one but Eugene was around her, nothing was touching her, and her armor remained intact. </p><p>When she lifted her tear and question-filled eyes to the new captain, a reflection of frenzied flashing in the guard’s breastplates caught her attention. A glance above revealed one of the sources.</p><p>Looking just as stunned as her, Eugene alternated between studying her face and the devices, then stood to his feet brushing invisible dust off his crimson jacket. He cleared his throat and said, “I would highly recommend you don’t try to use the Moonstone right now, Cass.”</p><p>Cassandra allowed herself a longer look up at the illuminated cuffs encircling her wrists and felt the dread pooling in her stomach. Another look at the reflections in the guard’s armor and she realized what she’d previously thought to be more mere shackles were also clasped tightly around her neck and ankles. “What’d you put on me, Fitzherbert? What are these?”</p><p>Eugene returned to lean against the front wall, looking like he wanted nothing more from the world than a good long nap. “Just another of Varian’s unbelievable inventions. M.R.D. is the official name if I remember correctly. Personally, I think it’s some of his best work.”</p><p>“How could…?” This didn’t make any sense. When she’d tried to use the stone’s magic, it’d… backfired? How could she not control it anymore? Even before she’d attained the incantation for full control of the Moonstone, it hadn’t attacked <em>her</em>. Were these suppressors? But that…that just couldn’t be. She insisted, “It—it’s not possible to suppress the stones.”</p><p>“As far as we know, yes, you’re right; it’s not possible,” Eugene said, “Varian couldn’t figure out a single way to stop the magic. But then he realized maybe the rocks didn’t necessarily have to be <em>stopped</em> to keep from making a mess, instead just—"</p><p><em>“Reversed,”</em> Cass breathed. </p><p>Eugene nodded. “He said you’d still be in control of the rocks and that they wouldn’t progress enough to cause you real harm because your instincts would take over and prevent that from happening at the initial pressure but that… didn’t seem to exactly go that way.” Eugene sent her an apologetic look and muttered almost to himself, “I didn’t expect it would be so painful…”</p><p>Cass looked again at her surroundings with new eyes. At least until she could find another way to escape, she had lost. “So, you have me right where you want me. What’s next? A trial where you all pretend you haven’t already decided my sentence?”</p><p>Eugene wouldn’t meet her eye. He looked down and fiddled with the hilt of a sword—Her sword —and seemed to brace himself. “Not exactly, Cass.”</p><p>His vague words didn’t click until she took in the rest of the cell: The glinting and twisted tools on the table behind the guards, the strap-covered chair beside her with arm-sized screws attached to flat bars that gaped open like a hungry mouth waiting to munch, the whipping post in the corner...</p><p>Oh. </p><p>Now the Shadow Blade’s presence made sense. </p><p>She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was at least a bit surprised. Corona wasn’t exactly known for torturing its prisoners. But she supposed they weren’t exactly known for having to deal with someone with celestial powers of destruction either. </p><p>Cass clenched the chains holding her up and met the new Captain’s eye unflinchingly. “I see.” </p><p>“It doesn’t have to come to that though,” Eugene blurted, “We’re just going to talk. Anything else is an absolute <em>last</em> resort that I would really rather not resort to. The king only wants the stone—"</p><p>A red haze washed over Cass and she just barely stifled her cry in time as the rocks drove into her again.</p><p>“—He’s not set on any sentence either for when the trial comes. He’s willing to make a deal should you be compliant with us—”</p><p>A bark of laughter. “<em>Compliant?</em> Are you seriously that dim to think I’m just going to hand my power over?”</p><p>“Hopeful is the word I would use.”</p><p>“Not a chance.”</p><p>Eugene sighed, “I had a feeling you’d say that.” The brunet prince carefully picked up her sword and then nodded to his men in dismissal. As they exited, he said, “The king has agreed to allow you the rest of today to decide before we have to move on to… convincing you. As your friend, Cass, I’m hoping you can come to the right decision.” </p><hr/><p>Several hours later— if Cass’ groaning muscles and kneecaps were anything to go by—the sturdy iron door to her cell was unlocked and opened to allow a guard to enter with a rather soggy looking piece of bread and cup of water on a tray.</p><p>The guard—who’s familiar brutish voice didn’t quite match his lanky frame— extended the tray until the wiggling bread was close to sliding onto her chest and grunted, “Dinner time. Hungry?”</p><p>Cass knew that this offering was practically fine dining compared to the usual gruel they served to the prisoners here. But she’d had enough of Corona’s stomach-churning generosity for one lifetime.</p><p>Cassandra chose not to voice her “appreciation” at the offer and only resumed her staring contest with the wall that he had so rudely interrupted.</p><p>“Hey, witch.” The guard pulled the tray back and snapped his spotless white gloved fingers an inch from her nose. “I’m talking to you.”</p><p>Cass still didn’t grace the guard with her gaze, but said, “Get that finger out of my face if you want to keep it.”</p><p>The guard snatched her jaw in a bruising grip instead. “I don’t take orders from traitors.”</p><p>“Maynard!” Another guard hissed, leaning in from his apparent post by the outside of the cell. “Captain said no one touches her; That includes you.”</p><p>Cass swung slightly in her chains as the guard threw her head down out of his grasp. </p><p>“Relax, I was just offering her dinner.” He didn’t spare Cass another glance as he exited with the untouched tray, saying to his partner, “And that’s “Lieutenant” or “Sir” to you, Rager, not “Maynard”.”</p><p>Cass was plunged into the dark once more as the door was locked twice, re-bolted, and didn’t open again for hours more.</p><hr/><p>Fitzherbert’s re-entry jerked Cassandra from her restless dozing. She stifled a groan at the abrupt wake up that called attention to the creak in her neck and soreness almost everywhere else; Her numb arms and hands were the exception.</p><p>Her eyes were drawn to the five tromping guardsmen that filed in and the glowing metal lanterns in their hands. She could almost feel their warmth chasing away the chilly fall night air…She wished they would bring one closer for her to touch…Or lean against… Great, only one day and she was relating to bugs.</p><p>The bug Captain entered her cell last, her leather wrapped Shadow Blade in his hand once more. “So, I think it’s safe to make the general assumption that today’s been difficult for all of us. But it’s not too late to turn things around,” Eugene said, beaming once more, “Make our day, Cass. Now that you’ve had some time to yourself to think things over, let me ask again: Are you ready to comply with the king’s wishes?”</p><p>Cass clenched her jaw and stayed silent. She envisioned all the ways she would someday command her rocks to cripple the worms before her and save the last one only to reclaim her sword from him and finally—</p><p>“I’ll take your icy silence to mean “no”.” Eugene sighed. “You can’t hold onto it, Cassandra, it’s far too destructive and quite frankly you’re far too unstable. So, if you won’t hand it over then I’m afraid we’re going to have to take it.”</p><p>The Captain handed the Shadow Blade to the closest guard and Cass bared her teeth and asked, “What is that for?” </p><p>Cass fought her restraints as the guards approached and she glanced between the blade and its wielder. Were they going to carve it out of her? </p><p>“Well since your hair and eyes are still disturbingly blue and not their—still just as disturbing—usual colors, and also with your earlier demonstration, I don’t doubt you still have the stone,” Eugene said, “I’m just assuming, given its sudden disappearance, that you’ve re-formed your armor to shield it. So, we will un-shield it.”</p><p>“What are you talking about—?” Cassandra looked down to the glowing orb mounted in her breastplate only to find an empty black crevice. Her mind raced for some possible explanation, considering the captain’s guess and maybe even someone having stolen it while she’d been knocked-out. But that wouldn’t make sense, she could still—</p><p>She was torn from her thoughts as the guards pounced. “No—Get your hands off me!” </p><p>“Hold still,” The guard with her sword ordered as his peers fought to quell her struggling. Once they had her immobile and unable to breathe, the bearded guard pressed the blade against her armor atop her collarbone with feather-like pressure. When Cass bucked again, he immediately pulled back and repeated in a growl, his breath hot on her face, “Hold. Still. I don’t want to cut you.” </p><p>Cass fought the urge to cough or gasp for air and only made herself accept the shallow bits of air she was able to get down past Lt. Maynard’s arm flattening her windpipe. Even though everything in her raged against letting them take the stone from her, she wasn’t stupid enough to move now. Not as the blade that could cut through the strongest metals and stones was dragging across her chest.</p><p>Once the blade had run from corner to corner, Cass felt the chilled air bite into her skin as the guard removed the new rectangle piece of her armor. If she’d been able to do more than twitch, she’d have looked down to where the guard was now blinking owlishly. </p><p>He stepped to the side. “Captain?”</p><p>“Well our job just got a whole lot harder,” Eugene said, blinking just as owlishly; Or so Cass assumed as his face and the world was beginning to be over-run by dancing spots. “By the sun, you can let her breathe now!”</p><p>Sweet air rushed in and Cass coughed and gasped it down eagerly as all the guards released their holds. Now she did look down to where they were all still staring. Just like the outside of her armor, there was no stone. </p><p>Eugene groaned and scrubbed at his face, saying, “Congrats, Cass, I believe you have been officially accepted into the club of magical relic wielders.”</p><p>Breathing heavily, Cassandra snapped, “Explain, Fitzherbert.”</p><p>“In layman’s terms: It looks like you’ve merged with the Moonstone just as Rapunzel has with the Sundrop. But as we’ve <em>very</em> recently, as in hours ago, discovered, somehow Rapunzel was able to bring the Sundrop out of her. I only heard this through the grapevine so if you want to know more, I’m not the person to explain that. But all that matters now is that we know that it’s possible.”</p><p>Eugene came and knelt in front of her again, his eyes pleading. “So I’m going to ask you one last time before my hand is forced, Cass: Hand over the Moonstone.”</p><p>Cassandra surveyed the pain-promising instruments around the room and the men willing to use them. Even if she knew how—which she didn’t— nothing they could do would convince her to relinquish it… but if this was the way they wanted it to be… Cass ignored the clenching in her stomach and clamminess of her palms and smiled at her former friend. “And where’s the fun in that?”</p><p>The light died in Eugene’s eyes and he took in a trembling breath before retreating to the front wall. Looking over her head to his men, he said flatly, “Let’s get started then.”</p><p>Without hesitation, the guards grabbed onto her once more and took to cutting her out of the remaining armor. The sword passed from hand to hand and none paused or pulled back as they cut into her along the way. </p><p>Each hand firm and unforgiving. Maynard’s hands—enthusiastic.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will admit I was a bit rushed in editing this one because I wanted to get it uploaded while it was still the weekend, and plot-wise this is just NOT my favorite chapter, but it was necessary. I'm MUCH happier with the next chapter and I will have that one up by Saturday so see you all soon! Comments make my world a magical place! Love you all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Pressure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day Fifteen</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra’s screams were unlike anything Eugene had ever heard. Day and night for over two weeks now they’d reverberated off the stone walls of the dungeon and within Eugene’s mind.</p><p>At each guard change, post update, and private meeting with the king and the guards he’d appointed as Cass’ interrogators, he heard no one. He saw only moving lips with no sound. He saw everything, read every report shoved his way, but he heard nothing. Nothing but those screams. </p><p>“She can stop this,” Eugene reminded himself as he paced in his office, flinching as another of her shrieks tore out. It was in Cass’ hands to make it stop. And the minute she agreed—the very <em>second</em>—he would ensure it stopped. </p><p>Every waking moment the command waited on the tip of his tongue. In sleep, he clutched the key to that box of a room. And when he would wake an hour later, drenched in sweat and ears ringing, he would retake to pacing. “Come on, Cass…” He would mutter, ignoring his girlfriend’s desperate knocks on the other side of his bolted door. “Just say the stupid words…” </p><p>He hadn’t seen Rapunzel since the festival. He’d had to find out from the king that she was awake and whatever that was that Cass had used to knock her out had worn off without any ill effects. </p><p>The king had sent a pageboy to his quarters on the third night after Cass’ arrest with a note informing Eugene that Rapunzel was incessantly pleading with him to spare Cassandra from punishment. The king had gone on to <em>advise</em> Eugene to keep Rapunzel in the dark about the current development with their prisoner. </p><p>Not long after, Rapunzel came to him crying through the door about the arrest. About what she was afraid her father might do to Cass.  </p><p>He hadn’t spoken to her. Had just let her tears add onto the pile of blame already crushing him. How could he tell her something was already being done? He was certain that the second he stepped out into the hallway with her, she would know. She would hear the screams of her best friend that clung to him like a second skin now.  </p><p>Eugene had to stay away. But oh, how he missed her. He needed to hold her in his arms. He needed the soothing glow she radiated. He needed to see her safe and smiling and let her delicate voice wash over him until he could breathe again. But he couldn’t be selfish. He had to stay away.</p><p>Eugene doubted Rapunzel would even let him hold her if she knew the truth anyway. What he was doing to their friend… He was a monster. But he wasn’t in this alone. Eugene was following someone else’s orders; The king’s orders. He was simply obeying… But that wasn’t a consolation to him any longer. </p><p>After the first week, Cass had shattered that excuse.  </p><p>Water still ran off of her shackles and the ends of her limp hair when Eugene had entered. Puddles of water she had choked and coughed into being surrounded where she laid shaking and hungrily gulping down air. </p><p>Eugene knelt in the sole dry spot beside her and forced the routine words out past his numbing lips, “This can stop at any time, Cassandra.” He looked away from her teary but still death-promising glare to a cobweb along the wall. “The king only wants the stone.”  </p><p>Her ragged breaths were her only answer.  </p><p>Eugene sighed and stood to leave. </p><p>“Is that the—” A struggling cough. “—the shield you’re cowering behind? That these are the <em>king’s </em>orders?” </p><p>Eugene froze in the doorway and quoted, “The Guard serves at the command of the King.”</p><p>Cass’s glare burned into his back. “Finish that motto, <em>Captain</em>. ‘The Guard serves at the command of the King…?’” </p><p>“…And its Captain,” Eugene whispered. </p><p>That was the most she’d said since the interrogations had begun. She’d broken her one word-routine to remind him of where he stood in this. To show him who she blamed. And she was right to. He was responsible, at least in part. And there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. </p><p>In his first audience with the king after Cass’ arrest, he’d been given the order. </p><p>“Let me make sure I’m understanding this correctly, Your Majesty, you want us to <em>torture</em> her?” Eugene said, gaping. </p><p>“Cassandra cannot be allowed to keep that stone. Not after the devastation we witnessed today,” The king had said staring down the prince from his high-backed golden chair in his study. “In my reign, I have tolerated many things and I anticipate I will tolerate a great many more. Terrorism, however, is not one of them. You must retrieve the Moonstone from her immediately and if that is what it takes… then so be it.” </p><p>“With all due respect, Sir, I can’t do that. Scratch that; I <em>won’t.”</em> </p><p>The king had merely lifted a greying brow. “If that is your stance, Captain, I can have Lt. Maynard take your place instead. He was one of the men up for the promotion after your predecessor and I don’t believe he’ll have an issue carrying out my orders.” </p><p>“Cassandra won’t live through a week at Maynard’s hands.”</p><p>The king went back to his paperwork. “It’s not preferable but at least it would spare her the trip to the gallows.” </p><p>It hadn’t taken Eugene even a minute then to take back his refusal. Though he’d said the words of agreement, there’d really been no choice at all. Cass had become like the sister he’d never had growing up, and Eugene would do whatever he could to protect her. And today, like every day for the past two weeks, that meant overseeing her torture.  </p><p>With an apology, Eugene dismissed the maid that arrived with his untouched meal tray for the hundredth time that week and left his stuffy office—following the mounting groans to the interrogation cell. </p><p>He nodded to the two guards posted outside and gave a tight sympathetic smile to the younger one as he noticed his pallor. Eugene peaked through the soap-bar sized barred window to where the three guards inside were interrogating their maximum-security prisoner.</p><p>“I’m guessing she still hasn’t said anything?” Eugene asked the guards at his sides. </p><p>Both answered, “No, Captain.” </p><p>The younger one had to break position to catch his falling halberd after he flinched at the simultaneous cracking and the ear-splitting scream that shot from inside the cell.  </p><p>Eugene told the guard as he unlocked the cell door, “Go trade posts with Rager in the grand hall, private.”  </p><p>“Thank you, Captain,” The young guard said with a sigh as he practically ran from the dungeon.</p><p>Eugene made a mental note to take the guard off rotation for this position. He must’ve not been thinking when he’d approved the list. No kid should be here for this. Then again, none of <em>them</em> should be here for this either. </p><p>As he entered the filthy cell, Cass’ groaning cries were gaining momentum again. Not bothering to check who’d entered—he’d chew them out for that later— the guards continued turning the monstrous screws, forcing the iron bar-like-plates mounted to them together— with Cass’ knee in-between. What skin was left intact within a wide radius of said knee was rapidly turning from white to red to purple and the veins surrounding the area bulged. </p><p>As the plates grew closer to touching, Cass began arching. A sharp keening arose as she writhed and jerked in the chair’s thick leather straps, uncaring for her other injuries. The earlier cracking soon intertwined with Cassandra’s scream once again as her knee was crushed. </p><p>Eugene forced down the bile rising in his throat when they cranked the plates back and began to turn another set surrounding her forearm while ignoring her jagged sobs. He ordered as firmly as he could manage, “That’s enough.”</p><p>The grinding squeaks of the chair’s screws ceased as the three guards finally saw Eugene and snapped to attention. Cass’ sobs didn’t stop.  </p><p>Tears still rained through her tightly shut eyes and down through dried blood and dirt into her ears but as Eugene neared, she clamped down on the pained cries that left her lips, swallowing them. </p><p>Eugene stood over her but avoided looking at the handiwork of the chair as best he could. “The stone isn’t worth all of this pain, Cass. Give it to us and this will stop.” <em>Please make it stop</em>, he wanted to add.</p><p>The devices on her chaffed limbs lit up in a pulsing rhythm. For half of a moment, Eugene was filled with hope that she was drawing the stone out. </p><p>But Cass just gripped the ends of the arm rests as fiercely as her mangled swollen fingers could manage. Her electric blue eyes shot open to burn straight through Eugene. Fresh blood blossomed on her cracked and teeth-mark riddled lips as they pulled into a snarl. And as always, the only word that left her was, <em>“Next!”</em> </p><p>That one single word. No matter how many hours they worked on her, how many methods they put her through, that was all she ever said.</p><p>It was maddening. </p><p>Eugene barely resisted the impulse to bang his head against the cold stone wall. They were getting nowhere. Over two weeks of this and the only things that were breaking was her body and his sanity. He had no idea how to get through to her.</p><p>Later that night in his room four stories above, Eugene mashed his pillows over his ears and tried to come up with some solution to end all of this. </p><p>Nothing came but those unending screams. He was convinced they would stay with him until the day he died. </p><p>Those glowing blue eyes full of malice and promise of repayment stayed with him too. Changing every day only in way of deepening. Strengthening in their resolve with each drop of blood spilled. And while he feared the promise they held, what frightened him most was finding less hope in them every day of his friend ever returning.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Drip.</p><p>Cassandra could see nothing.  </p><p>Drip.</p><p>Drip.</p><p>The whole world had ceased to exist and comprised of nothing. Nothing but black emptiness now. </p><p>Drip.</p><p>The visual world within her blindfold at least. The tangible world still held far too much.</p><p> Drip drip.</p><p>Her whipped back soaking the splintered wooden table beneath her… The stinging aches of her rubbed raw wrists… The blinding grinding of her crushed knee and nail-less fingers. The countless throbbing bruises, cuts, and burns on her body—some of which she had earned for doing her best to fight back, some others for watching Maynard eat a bowl of broth—supposedly meant for her— a little too longingly…</p><p>Drip.</p><p>She hadn’t been able to help that. The juicy, robust smell of the beef, the inviting steam that had danced from bowl and spoon, the light trickles the droplets had made as some escaped between the lieutenant’s lips and his spoon and splashed back into the bowl… just like a waterfall…</p><p>Drip.</p><p>Water. Cass smacked her trembling and dry lips. She could probably use some of that too.</p><p>Drip.</p><p>If only her forehead could make a deal with her chin for her mouth, she could have her fill of water. </p><p>Drip drip. </p><p>But although her body burned like a shade-less desert and each sandy swallow made her grimace, she was starting to want nothing to do with water. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Cass sighed shakily and grit her teeth against the pain that flared down her back as she tried in vain to shift her head away from the trajectory of the cold water’s fall. But the metal rod-contraptions keeping her head still were unyielding. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>What she wouldn’t give for the keys, a pick, a hatchet. Anything to get out of her bonds and away from that leak pounding a hole into her head. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Anything. </p><p>Drip.</p><p><em>Anything</em>. </p><p>Drip drip. </p><p>Well… almost anything. The stone— the one thing they wanted— Cass would keep.  </p><p>Drip. </p><p>She must. </p><p> Drip.</p><p>If she gave it up, this would all stop like they kept promising… but then again, they would promise anything to get the stone. To strip her of her power and voice once more… wouldn’t they? </p><p>Drip drip. </p><p>They did want the names of her allies too. While it hadn’t been a secret she’d been allied with Zhan Tiri, she still hadn’t given the demon’s name to her tormentors. She hadn’t given them anything. And she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. </p><p>Drip.</p><p>If she started, she might not be able to stop. And it didn’t seem to matter if she gave the unsettling girl’s name anyway. They seemed to believe she had multiple allies.</p><p>Drip drip.</p><p>She didn’t. In fact, the only names that were on her mind were the opposites of allies. For the past however many hours it’d been since they’d set the cursed dripping system up, she’d listed them silently.</p><p>Drip drip. </p><p>The King… </p><p>Drip. </p><p>The guards… </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Varian…</p><p>Drip. </p><p>Fitzherbert…</p><p>Drip drip.  </p><p>Rapunzel…</p><p>Drip drip.  </p><p>Her father… </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Zhan Tiri… </p><p>Once at the end, Cass would readjust the list to focus on those most to blame for her capture. Those on whom she vowed repayment. </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>The King…</p><p>Drip. </p><p>Fitzherbert… </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Rapunzel… </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Her father… </p><p>Drip drip.  </p><p>Zhan Tiri… </p><p>“Oh you poor thing, what has Rapunzel done to you now?” </p><p>Cass clenched her jaw at the deceptively sweet voice. Speak of the devil. </p><p>Small fingers pushed Cass’ blindfold up and off of her head. It took a few blinks for the shadowed world to come into focus again and when it did it was just in time to watch the next droplet fall from the beam above her. Cass flinched as it splashed on her brow.</p><p>Drip.</p><p>Cassandra snapped her focus away from her torment as the girl beside her clicked her tongue in pity.</p><p>Clothed in the same gothic but frilly dress and purple hair in their usual twin buns, Zhan Tiri was standing there in the flesh frowning down at her.</p><p>As the petite sorceress scanned Cass’ nearly bare chest, Cass stole a glance at the closed iron door and heard the calm mutterings of the guards seeping through the peep of a window. They didn’t seem to know this visit was happening. Cass blinked up at the girl again. She wasn’t so sure it was. She rasped, “Am I hallucinating?”  </p><p>“Have they given you anything to induce such dreadful things?”  </p><p>“No.” Cass jumped as another two drops crash landed. “I haven’t slept though in… I—I don’t know how long.” </p><p>Zhan Tiri extended her gloved hand in the path of the water and blocked the next drop. “I can assure you I’m quite real.” </p><p>Cass narrowed her aching eyes. “How did you get passed the guards? Don’t tell me you’re delivering my next round.” </p><p>“You forget I’m on your side, Cassandra.” </p><p>“Funny, I thought the only side you were on was your own.” </p><p>A child-like pout saddened the girl’s features enough that Cass felt a twinge of guilt. Zhan Tiri said, “I believe you’re confusing me with your captors, dear. I want only what will benefit you in your rise to fulfill your destiny.”</p><p> “Great,” Cass said, not entirely convinced but deciding it really didn’t matter how or why she was here as long as she got free. She twisted what limbs she could just enough to indicate the MDR—or whatever it was he called them— shackles keeping her pinned to the table. “Can you start with getting these off?”</p><p>Still keeping one hand in the water’s path, Tiri leaned in closer to evaluate the band on her neck, then she leaned out of Cass’ line of sight but could be felt examining the lower sets of cuffs. When she moved back within sight, real disappointment shone on her fair face. “I don’t believe these were put on with the intention of removal. I fear they’re lacking a keyhole.”</p><p>Cass’ lungs seized. “No, that can’t be right, check again. These have to come off for me to give them the stone. They’ve said that’s all they want. The whole point of <em>this</em> is for the stone. If I give it to them, they said they’d—they promised this would stop—”</p><p>The frown turned chastening. “Dear Cassandra, when will you learn that they only lie to you.” </p><p>No. That couldn’t be. She couldn’t believe that. That couldn’t… couldn’t be the end of it. There had to be some way she could regain proper access to her power. Some way she could get free… Fitzherbert said Varian invented these. Maybe the kid could— </p><p>“Your power now along with your freedom are yet two more of the things they’ve taken from you. Things <em>Rapunzel</em> has taken from you…” Zhan Tiri continued, “One has to wonder when it will end?”</p><p>She was right. Cass thought she had nothing left to lose once she cut ties with Corona… but she had forgotten to count the power she’d gained. Now she was stripped bare. <em>They</em> had stripped her. She couldn’t count on any of them for anything. Not anymore.</p><p>Cass asked, “Can you free me the rest of the way at least?” </p><p>“As much as it pains me to say this, Cassandra, you are in no condition to fight your way out and I fear freeing you of your other restraints will only serve to give them further reason to harm you. But I can offer you this.” The girl held up a vial containing a light orange liquid. “It should help you to endure your next bout of interrogation.” </p><p>Cass eyed the vial as it was uncorked and lifted to her lips. She didn’t open her mouth. Her doubts resurfacing once again about the true identity of this visitor. And former ally or not, she wasn’t about to let someone dump poison in her mouth. </p><p>Tiri pulled the vial back. “Do you not want it?” </p><p>“You didn’t tell me what it is.”</p><p>“Only a pain tonic.” The girl surprised her by taking a sip. “See? Completely harmless.” </p><p>Cassandra watched the girl, hallucination, guard, whatever she was, for a few moments for any funny signs, then slowly parted her lips and accepted the syrupy liquid. In no time, the fires of her pain responded to the soothing of the potion. Her heavy lids slid shut and she sighed, “Thanks.” </p><p>A cool gloved hand caressed her cheek. The chains binding her to the table clattered sharply as Cass flinched.</p><p>Zhan Tiri pulled the hand away and her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she said, “You inspire me with your strength of will, Cassandra. I trust you won’t surrender to the monsters.” She let the hand providing cover from the water return to her side causing Cass to tense again.</p><p>Drip.</p><p>Backing into the corner of the dark cell, the girl continued, “Just think of all that you have to gain once you have attained the final piece of your destiny.” </p><p>“The Sundrop,” Cass breathed. Perhaps more than sleep or water, this was what she’d needed; The reminder to help her through all of this. The reminder of her mission. Her stare hardened as she watched where the next drops would be falling from and asked, “How exactly do I make Rapunzel give it up?”</p><p>Drip.</p><p>“Perhaps implement the same methods they are using in the hopes of stealing your power,” Zhan Tiri said with a broad smile.</p><p>Drip drip.</p><p>Not lowering her voice in the least despite standing beside the door, the girl continued, “Just remember: Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.”</p><p>Drip. </p><p>Cass opened her mouth to ask what she meant when the loud banging and sliding of bolts on her cell door began. The rush of light blinded her as the door swung open and let her interrogators in.</p><p>Drip.</p><p>Cass’ held her breath as she waited for them to find her visitor lurking in the corner.</p><p>No discovery came.</p><p>No one commented on the absence of her blindfold or did more than glance her way as they focused on hauling in the things for her next round.</p><p>Cassandra looked to the corner again herself only to find it empty. On the dusty, cobweb, blood, dirt, bile, and urine covered cell floor she didn’t see a single tiny footprint to indicate Zhan Tiri had ever really been there at all.</p><p>Drip drip.</p><p>As the guards continued setting up and left her still to the hammering of the water, Cass thought over all she’d been reminded of. With a clearer mind, she revised her list of targets one last time. </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Rapunzel…</p><p>Drip drip. </p><p>Fitzherbert…</p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Rapunzel… </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Her father… </p><p>Drip. </p><p>Rapunzel… </p><p>Drip.  </p><p>Rapunzel… </p><p>Drip drip. </p><p><em>Rapunzel</em>…</p><p>Drip.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Cass... Poor Eugene... *Sigh* Poor Maynard... Wait. Not him. XD<br/>I'm going to try my best to get chapter four up next weekend, if not please don't be discouraged, it WILL be uploaded as soon as possible. In the meantime... Please tell me your favorite/least favorite things about this chapter! What'd you think about Zhan Tiri's visit? Was she really there or was Cass merely hallucinating her?<br/>Rapunzel and I will see you next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Princess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day Twenty-Six</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Cass? Cass, are you down here?”</p><p>Under the guise of a mustached guard, thanks to the shape shifting cloak of Retudnus, Rapunzel crept through the silent and grimy dungeon. Her mother—of all people— had given her the disguising cloak.</p><p>Only a few minutes before, with a hasty knock on her bedroom door, her mother had rushed in before Rapunzel could even finish granting permission. Her mother shut the door and locked it before beelining over to where Rapunzel had been painting her model, Pascal, atop a mini gondola. She set down her brush and asked, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>Looking over her shoulder like a pack of starving hyenas were after her, Arianna stuffed the cloak into Rapunzel’s hands, saying, “Don’t ask me how this came into my possession, just use it to take the form of a guard and go down to the dungeons. I haven’t been able to find out from your father what’s been happening to Cassandra, but I’ve known something was wrong. The person who gave me this confirmed it.”</p><p>Rapunzel had a million questions. But as this was her first bit of news about Cass—since being informed after the festival that she’d been arrested— and an opportunity to see her, she wasn’t going to waste another second on waiting.</p><p>Rapunzel had hidden the cloak in her bag and had left the room along side her mother at a leisurely and decidedly <em>not</em> suspicious pace. But once around the corner, she’d slipped the cloak on and ran.</p><p>If her mother’s urgency had been anything to go by, time was not on her side. She supposed that was nothing new. If it hadn’t taken her hours to regain consciousness from the battle earlier this month, Cass would never have been arrested. If almost a year hadn’t passed since her parent’s memories had been spelled away, Cass still wouldn’t have been arrested because Rapunzel would’ve still been acting Queen. And if that had been the case, no one would’ve <em>touched</em> Cass.</p><p>She knew that Cassandra was under the impression that as the Crown Princess, Rapunzel had total authority over the operations of the kingdom. But that impression was false. Her parents still held the authority in the land. Rapunzel was just as voiceless and powerless in matters where her parents had already taken a stand as she had been when telling Gothel she was ready to go out into the world.</p><p>As she tip-toed through the rows of vacant cells under the cloak now, she supposed that would not change for some time. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try her hardest to make a difference. Especially where Cass was concerned. If going behind people’s backs was what it took to take care of those she loved, then so be it. She would tip-toe for the rest of her days.</p><p>Ever faithfully on her side, Pascal tip-toed along with her up and down the rows. But even their sneaking steps sounded like canon-blasts to her ears down here. She’d been down here many times over the last few years, but she could never recall it being this… dead. Even the occasional rat she used to spot down here was strangely scarce.</p><p>Rapunzel checked every cell of the first two levels and found no one but the sleeping Saporians and the now-cured Baron. Then she checked the empty third level. And the fourth. There was no sign of Cass in any.</p><p>When Pascal returned from double checking the previous levels with a shake of his head, her stomach turned to lead. Rapunzel could hardly get a breath down and she finally gave up on trying to maintain the calm demeanor of a guard. She sped down the last flight of stairs. What had they done with her best friend?</p><p>Rapunzel froze as she reached the fifth floor’s iron door. She recalled what the royal records said about the levels of the dungeons and their purposes: The first was for prisoners of minimum threat or temporary holding. The second for those awaiting transport. The third and fourth for unruly and violent prisoners. And the fifth… This was the level for prisoners sentenced to death. Rapunzel braced herself against the cold stone wall and gasped, “No!”</p><p>But maybe Cass wasn’t down here either. She couldn’t be. They—they hadn’t even had a trial yet. She couldn’t be down here. They must’ve missed her on the first four levels. They must’ve.</p><p>But just so she didn’t leave any stone unturned, Rapunzel opened the door to the lowest level.</p><p>The faint sound of agonized screams pierced her heart.</p><p>Rapunzel couldn’t breathe. “Cassandra?”</p><p>Following the muffled voice of her best friend, Rapunzel sprinted to the guarded and heavily locked door at the end.</p><p>Rapunzel slammed to a stop and ignored the guards protesting her presence beside her. She ignored the putrid smells of undisposed body waste, salty sweat, and smoke that had her eyes watering and her stomach pleading with her to run. She ignored everything but the sight on the other side of the tiny barred window that was worse than her nightmares could ever conjure.</p><p>Rapunzel ripped off her disguise. “What are you<em> doing?”</em></p><p>The three guards kneeling inside the cell spun toward her horror-drenched voice. After dumping a bucket’s worth of water on Cass’ now steaming foot, two of the men had the decency to set down their items—the bucket and a canister of oil— and scoot them behind their backs. But the third with the flaming torch in his hand, scowled and snatched the canister of oil from behind his co-worker and turned to set Cassandra’s un-melted foot aflame.</p><p>“What are you <em>doing!”</em> Rapunzel shoved away the arm latch blockading the door and threw all of her weight into pushing and pulling and shaking the blood-crusted door handle. “Stop!”</p><p>“Your highness—” The guards on either side of her dared to lay their hands on her, gentle as they were. The men and their hands were coaxing, soothing, as though she was some spooked horse in need of reassurance before they corralled her.</p><p>Rapunzel jerked out of their grips and pointed a rage-shaking finger, commanding, “You will unlock this door—” Then growling to the guards protected by the iron and locks between them, “—and you three will come out of there <em>immediately!”</em></p><p>“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Came the gruff and extremely un-sorry sounding response from the torch-holding guard inside as he kept a firm hold on Cassandra’s shackled ankle, “But we have other orders.”</p><p>“And who ordered you to cause harm to my friend?”</p><p>The lanky guard said over Cass’ unending groans, “Your father.”</p><p>The world was spinning, crumbling in on itself, and flying by in fragments as Rapunzel flew through the halls and only returned itself to a fragile state of semi-stability once she arrived at the crowded throne room.</p><p>The farming citizen who’d been speaking his troubles to the pharisaical ears cut himself off and she vaguely noted Nigel descending a step and calling her name in concern. But Rapunzel only had eyes for the jeweled man on the dais that wouldn’t meet her stare.</p><p>Her entire being trembling in rage, Rapunzel’s voice rolled through the room as she asked her father, “What kind of a monster are you?”</p><p>Half the room gasped, and the other half held their breath, all eyes on the man accused.</p><p>“Sir Wayne,” King Frederic said to the kneeling wide-eyed farmer worrying his hat. “Would you be so kind as to return later this afternoon? It seems I need a moment alone with my daughter.”</p><p>The man bowed and mumbled out a humble acceptance before being ushered out by Nigel along with the rest of the crowd.</p><p>Once it was just the two of them, her father asked, “To what do I owe the kind words in front of my public, Rapunzel?”</p><p>“Cassandra.”</p><p>Her father stared her down, thoughtfully.</p><p>She ascended a step. “You’ve had her tortured.”</p><p>Frederic blew out a long-suffering sigh. “So, you found her.”</p><p>“Why have you done this! How could—?”</p><p>“Rapunzel, I know this may seem cruel to you, but I am only taking the necessary action to protect our kingdom.”</p><p>Rapunzel gaped at her father. “How is torturing Cassandra or anyone <em>“necessary”?</em> How could you possibly justify this as anything <em>but</em> pure cruelty?”</p><p>Her father’s gaze was gentle upon her but tinged with an almost puzzlement. He stroked his evenly trimmed beard and said, “I understand how upsetting this discovery is for you as I know of your friendship with Cassandra. But personal feelings must not get in the way of duty.”</p><p>“Isn’t that what you’re letting happen?” Rapunzel said, flinging an arm out to gesture to the dungeons she’d just left. “You have a duty to protect Cassandra! She is one of your citizens—”</p><p>“Cassandra is a traitor.”</p><p>“Others have committed treason before and <em>this</em> was not done to them!”</p><p>“Rapunzel—”</p><p>“No, this—this is wrong!” Mashing her temples and the headache pounding away behind them, Rapunzel descended back to level ground. She wanted to be nowhere near this man and his flawed and blind reasoning. “This has to stop. You haven’t even given her a trial.”</p><p>“Cassandra is still in possession of the Moonstone and though I did give her a chance to comply, she did not agree to hand it over peaceably.”</p><p>“That still doesn’t give you the right—!”</p><p>“Rapunzel, I am King!” Her father boomed, standing to his feet. “I have every right and every responsibility to see to the safety of my people.”</p><p>“Not like this.” Rapunzel shook her head, feeling nothing but disgust for the man bearing the crown. “This is wrong.”</p><p>“Cassandra holds the power to destroy our lives and this entire kingdom. She already tried and nearly succeeded before we were able to contain her. As long as that power still remains in her possession along with the will to continue wreaking havoc, the will to continue pursuing <em>you</em>, then I will stand by my methods this month.”</p><p>“This <em>month?</em> She’s been…You’ve…” Three weeks. That was how long it’d been since the festival. While Rapunzel had been painting and having diplomatic teas and luncheons, Cassandra had been enduring brutal torment… for <em>three weeks</em>. How could they have kept this from her… How could Eugene and her own father keep her in the dark for so long?</p><p>Pushing back the floodwaters threatening to sweep her away, Rapunzel asked her father evenly, “Are you going to kill her then?” When her father didn’t make a comment or show inclination either way, she pressed on, “You’ve confined her to the death level when she hasn’t even had a chance to stand trial—which is something we’ve offered to everyone regardless of the severity of their crimes.”</p><p>“I don’t make this judgement easily.”</p><p>Rapunzel couldn’t believe she shared blood with him. Her previous comparisons to Gothel returned to mind and she decided she would handle this just the same way. She would fight him. She would fight this sentence with everything in her and everyone at her disposal. She would fight.</p><p>“If you’re so set on execution, then the formality of a trial shouldn’t threaten you,” She said, “Treason Cass may be guilty of, but she’s still a human with basic rights. Or have you stripped her of those now too?”</p><p>Her father got lost in thought staring out the closest thick purple curtain framed window and Rapunzel worried maybe she’d pushed too far until he said, “Very well, I shall grant her a trial.”</p><p>Pointing in the direction of the dungeons once more, Rapunzel said, “Then you need to stop this or she won’t live to see it.”</p><p>Facing the side doors, her father called to the guards posted outside. One stepped in and bowed and her father commanded, “Send for the Captain.”</p><p>Neither Rapunzel or her father said a word as they waited. She wasn’t sure where Eugene was coming from as his office had been empty when she’d passed by earlier. But thankfully it wasn’t long before the door opened and she assumed he walked in. Assumed, because she was looking the opposite way and would be until he left.</p><p>His footfalls were quiet as ever but if she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve called the hesitancy in them almost apologetic. But she did know better.</p><p>She heard the rustle of his uniform as Eugene presumably bowed and then greeted her father, “Your Majesty?”</p><p>“Has there been any change in the prisoner’s stance on the Moonstone?”</p><p>“No, Your Majesty,” Eugene answered.</p><p>“Has she shown <em>any</em> signs of relenting?”</p><p>“No, Your Majesty. There’s no change.”</p><p>Frederic sighed and Rapunzel took the chance of accidentally seeing <em>him</em> to look up at her father expectantly—hopefully.</p><p>Her father said, “You may end the interrogations now, Captain.”</p><p>Rapunzel would’ve collapsed to the floor at the rush of relief if her anger hadn’t been steeling her spine.</p><p>Her father continued his questioning of the Captain, “Is she well enough to withstand trial?”</p><p>“Not in the least,” Eugene answered, clipped.</p><p>“I see. Bring the Royal Medic down with you upon your return to the dungeons,” Her father said to the both of them with an air of dismissal, “Cassandra shall be allowed to heal and then face trial in ten days’ time.”</p><p>In unison, Rapunzel and Eugene said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”</p><p>Rapunzel rose from her curtsy and almost knocked Eugene down as she took off for the door. He was hot on her heels and calling after her as she burst through the doors into the empty hall but she paid him no mind. Cassandra needed her. She was still being hurt as the guards didn’t know the king had given the order to stop yet. She couldn’t waste another minute.</p><p>Rapunzel used each corner to help propel her faster and dodged yelping maids and questioning guards along the way. She had to get the medic. She had to get to Cassandra. She may be the only living being in the building that cared for her friend’s well being and she wouldn’t fail her now.</p><p>“Rapunzel, wait.” Now at her side, Eugene took her arm and pulled her to a stop. His dark shadowed eyes and stubbled face were a surprise to Rapunzel but she shut out the concern that reared its head. His haggard appearance was no match for Cassandra’s broken one.</p><p>Rapunzel fought his grasp but Eugene clung tightly, desperately, and stumbled out, “You have to know I—I didn’t—"</p><p>The tears she’d been fighting all morning finally welled in her eyes and she paused long enough to meet his blood-shot gaze and whispered, “How could you do this?”</p><p>Then she was yanking her arm from his grasp and running again. She couldn’t spare another second. Not for him. But if she’d have stayed a second longer, she would’ve heard Eugene whisper, “I didn’t want to.”</p>
<hr/><p>Rapunzel flew back into the dungeons with the Royal Medic and his assistant in tow. The two guards flanking Cass’ cell were still at their posts and their faces turned into sympathetic grimaces as they prepared to deny her entry once more.</p><p>Like they would stop her now.</p><p>If Eugene hadn’t also been right on their tail and ordered for the guards to stand down and unlock the cell, she would’ve just barreled straight through them and then through that cursed door using their unsightly heads.</p><p>The three vultures inside were still surrounding and inflicting pain on Cassandra when Rapunzel rushed in but soon scattered like flies.</p><p>Now, for the first time, her view of her best friend was uninhibited.</p><p>Rapunzel fell to her knees, landing in a puddle of she-didn’t-care-what. The Medic and his assistant didn’t pay attention to the surrounding mess either as they dropped to Cassandra’s other side. Their hurried stream of medical dialogue was alien chatter to her ears and far away. Cass’ unfocused gaze told her the words were just as distant to her too.</p><p>Rapunzel wanted to hold her. Cool her obviously burning forehead with her hand, calm the violent tremors running through her frail frame, brush her filth soaked clumped hair back from her face, soothe her, clean her, protect her. But she was unable to find a single spot on her best friend safe enough to touch. And there were too many hands on her already.</p><p>At another set of Cass’ jarring flinches and muffled whimpers in response to the assessing hands, Rapunzel found herself swiping the assistant aside and crying to the pair, “Stop, please, you’re hurting her!”</p><p>The aged medic was undisturbed by the outburst and was gentle and calm as he sat her back on her heels, saying, “Your Highness, we have to touch her to help her—”</p><p>“But you don’t need to be so rough!”</p><p>“I assure you; we’re being as careful as possible. She is in a septic state and we need to act quickly.”</p><p>“Septic?” The term had Rapunzel backing down and fighting her rising panic as she took in Cassandra’s fever-ridden state again. While a wide-variety of angry red swollen cuts covered her body—her nearly naked body if not for the uneven pieces of her onyx armor that barely covered her breasts and covered her lower region like a pair of small shorts— in the dim lighting it was hard to make out just which ones were infected and which were only on their way. But as the medics had Cassandra turned on her side, Rapunzel couldn’t see the condition of her back where they were most focused. If the raised and shining purple and red borders along her side and shoulders were anything to go by, it wasn’t a good sign.</p><p>They were also quick to examine and tend to the burned leathery soles of her feet, and Rapunzel was quick to comfort Cass as the hands drew more moaning cries.</p><p>Stroking her barely-blue dirty hair back, Rapunzel tried to catch the attention of those glazed blue-eyes. “You’re okay. I’m here, it’s over,” Rapunzel assured, hoping to assuage Cass’ tears while trying to hold back her own. “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore, I<em> promise</em>.”</p><p>It was so quick that she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, but Rapunzel could’ve sworn Cass’ eyes latched onto hers for a second. Just one second to show the hatred burning beneath her pain.</p><p>When another muffled sound too intentional to be another cry was made, Rapunzel snapped her attention to the most atrocious thing on this side of her friend: The black muzzle covering a good half of her best friend’s bruised face. It’d been one of the first things she’d noticed when she saw Cass through the door earlier, but hadn’t wasted time on ordering them to take it off. Now, there was nothing stopping her.</p><p>Rapunzel reached behind Cass’ head for the clasp but found only a keyhole. She was surprised fire didn’t erupt from her mouth as she snapped to the captain standing in the doorway, “Take this off of her.”</p><p>Though looking abashed, Eugene had the nerve to say, “The king ordered us to keep it on.”</p><p>“Do <em>not</em> try me, Captain. He just gave you the order to stop all of this. Take it off.”</p><p>Eugene relented and as he undid it, she asked, “Why was this even on her in the first place?”</p><p>“Your father said because she wasn’t willing to answer any of our questions, then she didn’t need to talk at all.” Eugene said before continuing with a glance at the guards standing by the door, “She also took a chunk out of the Lieutenant’s hand.”</p><p>Despite the fury coursing through her and yearning to rail into Eugene and her father, all that left her as she smiled down at her best friend was, “Good.”</p><p>Though the gag was now removed, Cass never repeated what she’d tried to say minutes before. But now free of it, her cries—terribly hoarse and raw as they were—did greater damage to Rapunzel’s heart as they tumbled out with the medic’s every touch.</p><p>It was all Rapunzel could do not to banish everyone from the room when they started to set Cassandra’s dislocated leg.</p><p>She eventually allowed Eugene to usher her out of the cell as she couldn’t bear to watch another second of their administrations. Having Cass out of her line of sight while hearing it all continue was just as unbearable but somehow, she managed for the next few hours. Once things grew quieter, she dropped her chewed thumbnail from her mouth and pushed her sore body off the unforgiving stone floor to pop back into the cell.</p><p>Cassandra was half mummy in all the bandages and splints they’d so far managed to wrap her in. Rapunzel noticed with great relief that they must’ve dosed her with some sleeping drought or she’d passed out from the pain as Cass lay still on her stomach, eyes shut, with much steadier—though still shallow—breaths.</p><p>Spotting her in the doorway, the medic offered her a small smile before returning to his work stitching one of Cass’ numerous gashes. He said quietly so as not to disturb his patient, “I could use your help now, Your Highness, if you feel able.”</p><p>Rapunzel darted over to the group but was soon turning back to the exit as the Medic explained, “She can’t stay in here, could you see that there’s a sterile bed roll prepared for another cell we can move her to?”</p><p>“The prisoner must remain in maximum-security.” A gruff voice in the corner spoke up and startled Rapunzel as she’d half-forgotten the guards were still in the room. “She’s not leaving this cell.”</p><p>“I won’t hear it,” The medic objected before Rapunzel could. “She needs fresh air and a clean environment if all of this work is to mean anything. She’s not going to pose a threat for some time; I’m moving her.”</p><p>Rapunzel could kiss the man, but she contented herself with giving the shot down Lieutenant a smug smile and continued out the door to see to Cassandra’s bettered conditions.</p>
<hr/><p>“Mom, you should’ve seen her,” Rapunzel wept in her mother’s steadying arms an hour after leaving the dungeons, “What they’ve done, what they’ve put on her, how—where they’ve kept her… For <em>weeks!”</em></p><p>Sinking back against the wall and cushions of Rapunzel’s bedroom sunset showered window seat, Arianna held her closer and said amongst her shushing, “Cassandra’s going to be okay now.”</p><p>Rapunzel buried further into her mother’s warmth. Her grief and sobs strangling and shaking her to her core. “But she won’t! Dad’s—dad’s going to— to kill her!”</p><p>“No, he isn’t—”</p><p>Rapunzel coughed through another sob, “Yes he is!”</p><p>“No, Rapunzel, look at me,” Her mother pulled her back by her shoulders and the determination in her gaze had her unable to look away. “Your father agreed to a trial. Cassandra’s fate is not sealed. And I know you’re going to do everything you can to advocate for your friend.”</p><p>“What if he doesn’t listen?”</p><p>“He will if you present a strong argument.”</p><p>Rapunzel un-balled her mother’s handkerchief and wiped at her running nose. She knew what she would be arguing against at the trial—the death penalty or imprisonment— but she wasn’t sure<em> how</em> to argue against it.</p><p>She sniffled. “What do I say?”</p><p>“Well, what is your plea going to be?”</p><p>“I want Cass to be let go.”</p><p>Her mother gave a flicker of a smile. “I don’t think your father will go for that.”</p><p>Rapunzel knew that but it was still devastating to hear. She slumped back into her mother’s arms and her eyes burned with the next wave of oncoming tears. Was she merely fighting a losing battle?</p><p>“You know your father by now; While not deaf to emotional reasoning, he primarily deals in facts. So, what are the facts?”</p><p>Rapunzel couldn’t begin to zero in on all the foundations of this webbed mess at the moment. All she could see was her best friend’s broken, fever-ravaged body chained to that filthy cell floor.</p><p>Her mother leaned her cheek atop her head and continued in an even softer tone, “Let’s start with the basics: Do you know the primary thing she’s being accused of?”</p><p>“Treason,” Rapunzel muttered into her mother’s chest.</p><p>“Is there any evidence she’s guilty of that?”</p><p>Sun, what evidence wasn’t there. Almost everyone in the kingdom could give eye-witness statements of Cassandra’s attacking actions and destruction at the festival—as if the remaining presence of the stolen Moonstone in Cass’ very being and their black-rock punctuated castle wasn’t condemning enough. Her mother’s hand came up to rub gentle circles in her back as she sobbed, “Yes.”</p><p>“Is there any evidence to the contrary?”</p><p>That manipulative sorceress in a little girl’s skin popped in her head. Zhan Tiri had confessed to her in no uncertain terms that she was using Cass for her own purposes and without Cassandra’s knowledge. Certainly, the demon’s influence along with the fact that they had attacked Cassandra first at the festival had to be worth something. She lifted her tear-stained face to her mother. “Yes.”</p><p>“Good. Is it enough to outweigh the evidence of guilt?”</p><p>“In my opinion, yes.”</p><p>Her mother’s body shaking chuckle and caressing thumb below her pouting lip wasn’t encouraging.</p><p>“Try to stick to the facts and not feelings, sweetheart. Though I wouldn’t discard your convictions as they can make for a compelling argument at the right time,” Her mother said, “But my father taught me to tally court arguments by looking at it like a balancing scale. Say that each piece of <em>tangible</em> evidence was equal to a one-pound weight, which side would weigh more in this case: The one with guilt or without?”</p><p>Zhan Tiri had only revealed her motives to Rapunzel, so while she would hold to that piece to argue, she couldn’t stake Cassandra’s life on it as no one else could verify its truthfulness. Rapunzel forced out around the lump in her throat, “The guilty side.”</p><p>“So, she’s guilty. That’s okay. That doesn’t mean you’ve lost. Now we just know what we’re arguing.”</p><p>Rapunzel didn’t feel the least bit consoled by that information. “But how? If Cass is guilty, doesn’t that mean—?”</p><p>“It means now you have to decide what compromise you’re going to propose.”</p><p>Rapunzel just blinked at her mother. She’d already said asking for Cass to be let go wasn’t going to happen…</p><p>“You said your father is considering execution. What would be an alternative you’d be happy with for Cassandra? Is prison time acceptable?”</p><p>“No!” Rapunzel cried, fisting her hands in her hair. “No, that’s the problem. Either alternative is—is unthinkable!”</p><p>Arianna pulled her hands away from inflicting impossible damage to her scalp and squeezed them once. “Stay with me. That’s fine. We’re just going over alternatives. There are more than one. I said that one because you know it will be one of the first things to come up. Does Cassandra still have the Moonstone?”</p><p>“Yes.” Rapunzel furrowed her brow. “Why?”</p><p>“Because banishment or exile would be the next options but I don’t think your father would go for either with that weapon still at her disposal.”</p><p>Rapunzel shook her head in disbelief and stared across the room to her favorite painting on her nightstand. The painting she’d made of her and Cass only a week after they’d met. That was three years ago but with all that’d happened since… it felt like a different lifetime. How had they ended up here? Did Cassandra’s future really only hold the two paths of prison or death? “Cass can’t go to prison,” She whispered.</p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p>Rapunzel knew her mother was only trying to help her prepare for the proceedings that would be much less caring of offending her but still the question irked her. “Because it’s Cass! She’s my best friend and yes, she’s made some bad decisions recently, but this isn’t who she is. This isn’t her. She’s… she’s hurting and she shouldn’t have to keep suffering. She’s felt so overlooked for so long… Adding isolation to it will only make things worse. For everyone.”</p><p>“If she were to stay in prison, you could visit her you know. She’d be right downstairs. Maybe it would even help her.”</p><p>Rapunzel shot her mother a mild glare and insisted, “She doesn’t need prison. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, my company isn’t exactly comforting to her right now.”</p><p>“Is there someone else’s company that would be?” Her mother asked, “From what you’ve told me, she’s pretty angry with everyone.”</p><p>“She is but maybe her—” Like the glory of the dawning sun, it hit her: Cass’ father. With his history and experience as Corona’s Captain of the Guard as well as being her father, he would be her key to a viable alternative. She gasped and took her mother by the shoulders. “House arrest!”</p><p>Now it was her mother’s turn to blink at her. “House arrest? Whose house?”</p><p>“Her father’s! This is perfect!” Rapunzel remembered his words to her after their adventure on Tirapai Island that he wouldn’t give up on his daughter. She would hold him to that. He would be the perfect balm for helping Cass heal while also being reliable and capable enough to keep her secure. She knew that even with his resignation, the opposing side couldn’t deny his ability to hold Cass to the rules of home confinement. Rules she would give quite a bit of tweaking… But she would need the expertise and the agreement of the chosen enforcer for that.</p><p>Rapunzel leapt off the bench and ran for her bedroom doors. “I have to go talk to him!” She skidded to a halt halfway down the gleaming hallway and sprinted back into her room where she’d abandoned her mother. She smiled sheepishly and rubbed at her arm, asking, “Umm… Do you know where her father lives now?”</p><p>Her mother’s smile was as radiant and gracious as the sun beaming behind her. “He owns a cottage out by the city’s borders.” Rapunzel thanked her with one last hug and before she could return to rocketing out the doors, her mother kissed her forehead and said, “Cassandra couldn’t be in better hands.”</p><p>Though it didn’t slow Rapunzel’s pace as she dashed out of the palace and to the limits of the city, her mother’s words weighed on her. Her best friend’s very life was in her hands. It was as though Cass was wavering on the crumbling edge of a cliff and Rapunzel’s own words would either push or catch her.</p><p>She couldn’t let her fall. <em>They</em> couldn’t let her fall. They <em>wouldn’t</em>.</p><p>Once she told her best friend’s father of what’d happened these past few weeks, what’d been done to his daughter… once she could help him past his own initial rage and grief, she knew his resolve would be as strong as hers. And that determination would not fail or distract them.</p><p>Rapunzel knocked on the door of his modest dark red brick cottage, squared her shoulders, and wiped away any remnants of her previous tears. A boatload more of tears would come later but not now. Tears would only stand in her way now. She had to focus.</p><p>She had an odds-defying defense to build.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Rapunzel to the rescue! *Cheers* It only gets harder from here folks ;)</p><p>Writing in Rapunzel's POV was really hard for me, and unless I change something at the last minute, this will be the only chapter of this story from her point of view. We're back to Cass' POV next chapter. See you all next week, and don't be late: We have a trial to attend.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Trial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Open your mouth.”</p><p>Cassandra would’ve thought the order to be from the doctor or one of his assistants ready to dump another half vial of pain tonic or infection fighting sludge— or pain tonic— down her too raw throat. She would’ve thought it was Rapunzel bullying her way down here again with a bowl of broth she wouldn’t stop feeding her until Cass was about to burst. She would’ve thought it was <em>anything</em> with the last remnants of her fever disillusioning her reality… but she knew the voice too well. And she knew that precise order with horrible familiarity.</p><p>Cassandra held back another moan and opened her eyes to pierce through Lieutenant Maynard.</p><p>Sun, why couldn’t it be the medic with more pain tonic? The half dose he’d just given her minutes ago did little for her pounding, aching, screeching body. And this was supposed to last her through the trial. The trial she’d just been informed was today. Well… at least some stinging was dulled.</p><p>A quick surveillance of the unfamiliar— and relatively mold free— cell behind the Lieutenant revealed eight robust guards with sets of shackles in some hands. She supposed their presence meant the trial was now. Joy. She was not ready for this.</p><p>Maynard’s rotten mug refilled her vision as he knelt beside the cot she was stretched out on and chained to. She kept her mouth shut though she longed to tell him to get out. His face was going to be the death of her nauseous stomach.</p><p>Maynard’s caress of her cheek caused her to tense and fire to rake down her stitch-stretched back. If she had the strength and wasn’t stuck flat on her stomach like smushed road kill, she’d have gladly removed another chunk from the Lieutenant’s hand. Or decked him. But as she was, she could do nothing to make him move and nothing to cover for her trembling as his fingers lingered—She could still smell her blood on them.</p><p>But she wasn’t sure the black contraption he dangled in front of her wasn’t worse than his touch.</p><p>“King’s orders,” Was all the cur said, his crooked smile illuminated by the soft morning’s light drifting through the barred window.</p><p>She had an actual window in this cell. What an upgrade.</p><p>The Lieutenant pushed the curtain of her freshly cleaned blue locks behind her ear and rubbed the hinge of Cass’ jaw. Rubbed the exact spot that still felt bruised in every layer of tissue and bone and the skin surrounding that still bore the long scabbed over scratches of his nails. The other side of her jaw—currently shielded by her pillow— bore twin marks.</p><p>Maynard’s cabbage breath assaulted her nose as he asked, “Do we need a repeat lesson of the first time you refused your muzzle?”</p><p>Cass narrowed her eyes into slits but smiled inside at the memory. She’d lost but not before taking a piece out of him.</p><p>The calloused fingers slid between her pillow and cheek, taking the position necessary for the pressure points along her jaw. He held her like that, ready to pry, and gave her one last chance, “Open your mouth, traitor.”</p><p>Cass pressed her lips together to the point of pain. Just because she didn’t have the strength to bite him again, didn’t mean she’d make it easy for him. She hated that thing—And the muzzle too.</p><p>Maynard’s smile broadened at her refusal. And then she was seeing white and crying out as his grip squeezed the sides of her jaw with the strength of the crushing screw chair.</p><p>She had only a millisecond to readjust to the freezing and dull steel tongue depressor being crammed in her mouth and even less time to fit her teeth into the depressor’s grooves. She’d learned the hard way that avoiding <em>that</em> step costs her an exceptional amount of comfort once secured.</p><p>Safe from her teeth once the lock on the unforgiving, hair pinching, straps clicked behind her head, the Lieutenant pressed against the front of the leather. Mashing and tugging along the edges encapsulating her nose down to the underside of her chin to where it almost dug into her neck. Same as before; nothing budged.</p><p>Cass forced her lips to accept the immovable wall they’d once more be pinned against for the next however many hours or days. She forced her tongue to accept the inescapable taming, and forced her breath to find and be content with the four small diamond pattern air holes for which only her nose would be responsible with utilizing. It was snug. More so than the last time. Solid. Stuffy like her last cell… Too stuffy actually. Almost like no holes existed…</p><p>No, she could breathe, she assured her tightening lungs. May not be able to make a sound beyond the animalistic, but she <em>could</em> breathe. In and out. Out and in. It just took a little re-adjusting.</p><p>The mask was soon the least of her concerns as she was unchained from the single rod head and footboards and two new sets of firm hands hauled her upright. Her cry was only half blocked by the gag.</p><p>Cass sagged in the guard’s hold the instant her bandaged feet touched the ground. But her back and shoulders weren’t any happier to take on the strain.</p><p>“Time to go.” Maynard’s calloused hands were just as unsympathetic as the others as he wrenched Cass’ sprained wrists behind her to be re-shackled—this time accessorizing them to a corset-tight waist chain that dug into her bare skin. “Don’t want to be late to your last audience with the Royal family before you swing.”</p><p>The hair-raising words were of little surprise. She’d assumed since the first day of her capture that the king’s mind would already be made up in terms of her fate. This trial would be little more than another way to humiliate her and bring her lower before they ended her life. This trial was nothing but yet another lie. All for the sake of their fragile egos.</p><p>From the doorway came the inquiry, “Is she ready?”</p><p>Captain Fitzherbert’s tired voice betrayed his polished and duty-stiff appearance. For the first time in four weeks, the Captain almost fit in with the ranks of his proudly pristine men. No surprise there either. It was all about the public face in Corona, always had been.</p><p>Cass winced as more chains were locked to the back of the devices on her ankles, neck, and to her belt. She imagined what she looked like to her audience; Too weak to stand, bruised and bound head to toe, and clad only in bandages, casts, and the scrap pieces of her once fearsome armor. She’d come a long way in four weeks as well. Thanks to <em>them</em>.</p><p>After a few testing tugs on her jingling ensemble, the Lieutenant said, “All set, Captain.”</p><p>And they were off.</p><p>The gag did little to stifle her choppy groans as she was dragged out of the dungeons’ lowest level. Sharp bolts of stabbing pain lanced up the leg of her crushed knee, held rigid by an unyielding cast, as it was jostled and was unable to avoid raking her melted foot over every stone.</p><p>And then they got to the stairs.</p><p>Four excruciating flights later, Cass’ throat was throbbing with the rest of her. Through the tears welled in her eyes, she could hardly appreciate the unrestricted view of the red and orange topped trees and white puffy cloud-filled blue-sky out the high-arching windows. Through the sweat dampening her exposed skin, she couldn’t appreciate the way the gentle sun fell upon her and the sparkling hall, warm and pure. Through the small holes in her muzzle, Cass couldn’t savor the fullness of the crisp, dust, and urine-free air.</p><p>All she knew was pain.</p><p>But as they stayed on level ground from that point in their journey, she acclimated. Somewhat.</p><p>In the absence of her own cries, she noticed that the halls to the throne room were unusually empty. Silent. She would’ve thought the guard to have forewarned people to stay away from their path if not for the few whispers that trickled in.</p><p>“You’re not even sorry,” a voice—female— said, faintly as though ghosting by. It floated by again, “What did you think would happen?”</p><p>Cassandra peered through her entourage to the still empty halls they passed. Only two broad-shouldered guards stood at the end of each. Blocking her from exit.</p><p>Again, the woman whispered to scoffing and snickering cohorts, “Look how far you’ve fallen. No wonder he turned you in.”</p><p>Cassandra snapped her head in the direction of the opposite hall they passed, ignoring the concerned look the Captain gave over his shoulder. It was just as empty.</p><p><em>“Disgrace,”</em> the same voice hissed so close and sharply it cut through her hair to the skin of her ear.</p><p>Panting in the humid mask, Cassandra whipped to see the speaker at her side. No one but her own flaming eyed reflection stared back at her in the breastplate of the guard on her arm.</p><p>Cass relaxed the clammy fist of her one semi-good hand as they turned into a different corridor and left the gossips behind. Whoever the voices were, they were right; She wasn’t sorry. But she was no disgrace.</p><p> </p><p>When at last they reached the gilded grand doors to the throne room, the Captain opened the door but said over her head to the guards, “Wait here.”</p><p>Without further ado, Cass was dumped on the floor; The vise-grips on her upper arms remained.</p><p><em>In and out, </em>she reminded herself as the blinding spike of pain left only her breath to her controllable awareness. <em>Out and in</em>. She would pay them back—<em>In</em>—when she got the chance—<em>and</em> <em>out</em>.</p><p>Cass wasn’t sure how long it took her to get a handle back on her pain, but as soon as she managed, the guards were reforming their tight ranks around her and pulling her back up.</p><p>Three guards and the quick-stepping Lieutenant led the way into the bright throne room. Above the clanking of her restraints and the steady marching footsteps around her, the murmurs of two familiar voices reached Cassandra.</p><p>A sharp gasp and scraping of a chair’s legs on the polished tile floor ended the pair’s conversation.</p><p>Through the gaps between the guards her eyes met his— Her father.</p><p>The blue flashing of the MRDs ricocheted in the golden armor around her.</p><p>Why was <em>he</em> here? Cass’ eyes snapped to the princess standing at his side. At the consoling hand she placed on his shoulder. Of course. Of course<em> she’d </em>involve<em> him</em>.</p><p>“Cassandra…” Her name fell in a horrified whisper from his lips. His trembling, <em>lying</em>, lips. The princess muttered words of comfort to him but they did nothing to erase the redness of his puffy eyes, the bow-string tension in his frame, or shut his gaping mouth.</p><p>Cass clenched down on the muzzle’s steel wedge until she thought she heard it creak. She looked away. Her father’s reaction of concern was like everything else in this palace: a charade. She wouldn’t have suffered the last month in those soul-sucking cells if it wasn’t for him. She wouldn’t be here subjugated in chains if it wasn’t for him. She wouldn’t be here awaiting execution if it wasn’t for him—</p><p>Cass cried out as she was once again dumped on the tiles. <em>Shoved</em> was more like it this time. A ripping in her back. Her bad leg, unable to bend, sprawled out at an awkward side angle in the landing. And once again the guard’s gripping her arms remain and do nothing to help—though an additional hand does appear and clutch the chain attached to the back of her M.R.D collar.</p><p><em>In and out</em>. She clamped down on the mouth piece again. <em>Out and in</em>. Her pulse was loud in her ears and hammering through her aching body. <em>In and out</em>. The half serving of pain tonic was little more than a faint joke to her now. <em>Out and in</em>. After the guards, she would find a way to pay the doctor back for his “help” too.<em> In and out</em>. The king… the Captain… her father… and Rapunzel. <em>Out and in</em>.</p><p>They would all pay. <em>In and out</em>.</p><p>The doors opposite the ones they’d entered through opened and Cassandra willed the floor at the foot of the dais to fall away as both the Captain and the Princess took their positions on opposite ends. If only.</p><p>Bulbous nose in the air and not a lick of hair out of place in his slicked back ponytail, Nigel strode through the doors and announced to the room, “Their Majesties, King Frederic and Queen Arianna.”</p><p>Gloved fingers fisted themselves in Cassandra’s hair at the roots and shoved her down until her forehead was almost touching the floor. The earlier ripping in her back intensified. She hissed and thought she heard her father growl.</p><p>Delicate clipping steps of high heels alongside the sturdy thuds of boots spoke of the monarchs’ entry. She held back the whimper and fought to keep her breaths shallow amid the prolonged bow. Fought as the skin and stitches in her back continued to strain and tear.</p><p>A dainty gasp echoed in the expansive room that Cass assumed belonged to the queen. She actually believed the heartbreak and surprise in that sound to be true.</p><p>“Court is now in session,” Nigel said, “His Majesty, King Frederic presiding.”</p><p>The hand in her hair yanked her back upright.</p><p>Now seated in his throne atop the dais and beside his pale wife, King Frederic was silent as he beheld Cassandra with an unreadable expression.</p><p>Despite the fire licking and the blood dribbling down her back and soaking the bandages, Cass didn’t shrink and met his gaze unblinkingly. <em>In and out.</em> <em>Out and in.</em></p><p>The king broke the stare-off and nodded to his advisor. “You may read the charges.”</p><p>Unrolling one of the many crisp scrolls in his hands, Nigel cleared his throat and read, “Cassandra, you are charged with an attempted coup against The Crown, Two counts of attempted murder of The Crown Princess, Freeing, aiding, and abetting the ancient demon Zhan Tiri, Wielding and refusing to relinquish a weapon of mass destruction, One count of kidnapping, Destruction of private property, Destruction of public property, Theft, and Multiple counts of personal injury and collateral damage. What do you—” The windbag glanced down to Cass, or rather to her gag, and re-directed his question to the princess, “—What is her plea?”</p><p>“Mercy,” The sun-splotch said, tone and posture ram-rod straight and unwavering despite her idiotic and basically begging response, “I plead for mercy and leniency from the court on behalf of the Accused.”</p><p>Cassandra could almost feel the looks the guards were shooting over her head at each other and the princess. Sun, she couldn’t believe she’d agreed to have Princess Lollipop represent her. Oh wait, that’s right, she <em>hadn’t.</em></p><p>Facing the king rather than his girlfriend, Fitzherbert said, “I believe the question here was is she guilty or not guilty, Your Highness.”</p><p>“Thank you, Captain,” Rapunzel said, not looking at her boyfriend either, “But I know what was asked. My answer remains unchanged.”</p><p>Cassandra heard Fitzherbert give some type of sorry response, but a wave of pain washed over her so fully everything outside of it grew distorted. What little help the pain tonic had offered so far was fading. With a groan, she reconnected with the world around her and saw no one had even noticed her lapse. No one but her father looking ready to leap from his seat against the far wall and run over to her.</p><p>Cass looked away and tuned back into the proceedings.</p><p>Rapunzel was arguing in a barely cordial tone, “—If the <em>Prosecution</em> so desired for me to make a plea to either side, they should’ve allowed me to confer with the Accused instead of prohibiting her speech the second she was well enough to hold a conversation.”</p><p>The king cut in, “I told them to put it back on, Rapunzel.”</p><p>Rapunzel fell silent and scrunched her toes before saying slowly, carefully, “I don’t see why the measure was necessary as you have already called an end to her torment—"</p><p>“I said for him to end the interrogations, not her confinement,” The king replied, then offered as though a pardoning point, “She injured one of my guardsmen.”</p><p>“Given these conditions,” Rapunzel pressed on, petite hands in fists behind her back. “I will not admit to guilt or innocence for her when she hasn’t had the chance. Rather, I am here to pose an alternative—”</p><p>“I object, Your Majesty,” The Captain said with a wince, “The defendant cannot argue for a bargain deal while evading a basic plea.”</p><p>“Sustained,” The king said and looked Cass’ way again.</p><p>Time ticked by for so long Cass thought she would soon see the orange glow of the sunset through the high golden framed windows.</p><p>With a quiet sigh, the king ordered her guards, “Lower it.”</p><p>Cassandra smiled madly behind the gag as one of the men holding onto her arms readjusted his hold to a little further down. And the hesitant and uncertain touch of the guard behind her unlocking the muzzle, almost drew a laugh. Almost. A cough came out instead as the saliva covered metal slab was pulled out of her mouth and away with the stifling leather. Unrestricted, clear, sweet orchid scented air kissed her face. The first clean air she’d breathed so freely in a month. She drank it in as she knew this was only temporary.</p><p>The guard behind her was still holding the contraption, resting it against her chin. His palms and the locking ends of the straps pressed against her cheeks. The urge to fuel her new biting reputation tempted her—<em>Greatly.</em></p><p>The king asked, “What is your plea, Cassandra?”</p><p>She’d almost forgotten he was there.</p><p>What was her plea? What had she done? More than they had even listed. And she knew the evidence against her was undeniable. No matter her answer, she would be condemned… But the princess was trying to speak up for her. Trying to keep her as a caged pet, no doubt. Keep her around as though just another trophy that shouted: See how Princess Rapunzel saved the day!</p><p>Cass wouldn’t make it easy for her this time. Wouldn’t ever waste a breath on helping her causes again. So, looking at each lording dignitary around the room before settling on the king, she said with her chin raised, “Guilty.”</p><p>The instant after the word left her lips, the king nodded and the guard pulled the muzzle back to her mouth. But as always, she fought it. Thrashing her head to the side, she growled her refusal through clenched teeth, “No!”</p><p>And as always, she lost. They had an audience of both their Captain and the Royal family—there were no negotiations this time. In a flurry of suffocating and prying hands, Cass was silenced once more.</p><p>The court had continued on through her struggle.</p><p>“—light of that admission,” The king was saying, “This trial will be for the sole purpose of deciding a sentence.”</p><p>Cassandra didn’t know if it was for dramatic effect or if he was genuinely thinking as the king took a long pause. She could tell that the princess—clad in an unusual somber blue dress but still no shoes to cover her wiggling toes—was about to burst. Her former friend glanced between her and the king once, twice, thrice. And their eyes met once. Cassandra was quick to shatter that stare. The stinging and stickiness of her bleeding back was more bearable.</p><p>The king’s gaze fell on the wood of the dais as he said, “By Corona law, the Accused has earned severe punishment. Either by life imprisonment or execution by way of hanging or the stake.”</p><p>“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” Nigel said, looking down his nose at Cassandra, “But wouldn’t the burning be harmful to the stone within the Accused? Perhaps a beheading would be safest and… the least painful?”</p><p>Despite already knowing she was facing the death penalty, the last alternative had Cass turning green.</p><p>“Yes, perhaps your right,” The king said, rubbing his temple and looking down at Cassandra as well, as though picturing each option.</p><p>“Again, I ask for mercy from the court,” Rapunzel said, voice shaking at the end. “If I’ve learned anything about Corona in these past few years, it’s that we give people a second chance. No matter what they’ve done.”</p><p>Cassandra rolled her eyes at that. <em>Oblivious as always, Rapz.</em> Didn’t she realize they only gave grace in the kingdom to those the princess deemed worthy? Things were stricter and by the book before she came along.</p><p>“But she’s dangerous, Your Highness,” Nigel argued, “She cannot be allowed to just walk free.”</p><p>“I agree with Nigel, Your Majesty,” Captain Idiot said, a spotless boot pointed toward the doors as though ready to run. “As observed, the Accused still retains possession of the Moonstone. To release her with that weapon as well as an uncurbed intent would be to repeat the mayhem of this past year.”</p><p>“Past year?” Rapunzel finally turned to her boyfriend. “She only attacked last month. An attack that <em>we</em> provoked—!”</p><p>“That is speculation, Your Highness,” Fitzherbert interrupted, still watching those on the dais. “It was witnessed that she had malicious intent when she stole the Moonstone from you a year ago. And there were events following that such as the red rocks and kidnapping that suggested she was a threat when she showed up— under a guise mind you—within the palace’s gates. The Guard acted in proper response to that threat—”</p><p>“She wasn’t a threat! She was there peaceably until your men disobeyed my order.”</p><p>The king spoke up, “We can’t ignore what actions she took before or after that incident, Rapunzel. She had already previously and then continued to commit treason on several accounts. And with the admission of guilt we have already received, this subject is not up for debate.”</p><p>“I’m not debating whether Cassandra is guilty or not, but rather if she is still a danger, Your Majesty,” Rapunzel said, composing herself with a deep breath. “The Prosecution claims intent of harm remains. I disagree. However, I have come up with an alternative that would still quell that concern—however unnecessary it maybe—while avoiding a loss of life or the unhealthy conditions of the dungeons.”</p><p>“Let us hear it then,” The king said with a wave of his hand.</p><p>“Home Incarceration.”</p><p>No. She couldn’t mean…</p><p>“I propose that with this alternative Cassandra would be kept safe and secure under a list of terms and regulations—” Rapunzel crossed to Cass’ father and accepted a thick scroll which she passed to the queen and onto the king. “—that I have outlined within these pages, and under our former Captain of the Guard’s watchful eye in his own home.”</p><p>Now that beheading was sounding much nicer.</p><p>Cassandra couldn’t control the shaking that overtook her as she glowered at her father. No. There was no way was this happening.</p><p>Fitzherbert spoke up as the king reviewed the terms, “Your Majesty, I have to object. This would place the Accused, along with the Moonstone, right in the middle of our vulnerable citizens. Not only is that a great risk for their safety and peace of mind but at the very least it could insight—”</p><p>“I don’t believe we would exactly be making it public knowledge that Cassandra has been moved into their midst, would we Captain?” The king said, raising a brow at the prince over the papers in his hand.</p><p>Cassandra’s nausea returned. He liked this idea.</p><p>The king continued, “And those gadgetries on her are still functioning and will continue to keep the Moonstone from being an issue, correct?”</p><p>With a glance her way, the Captain answered, “That is correct.”</p><p>This couldn’t happen.</p><p>“And as I stated,” Rapunzel said, hands on her hips and growing taller like a plant blessed by the room’s plentiful sunlight, “Our former Captain will not let her out of his sight but will be by her side at all times. I think we can trust that the safety of the people will not be an issue with his guardianship.”</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>Cassandra looked desperately to the king, and felt hope reigniting as he frowned at the papers.</p><p>“While I know him to be fully capable in measures of security and I’ve trusted his judgement without being let down for many years, I don’t feel quite comfortable transferring our prisoner from maximum security to such… relaxed conditions.” The king turned to address her father directly, “What if something should befall you?”</p><p>“The terms are open to amendment,” Rapunzel interjected, “The option for additional guards outside the house has already been considered and we would be open to accepting.”</p><p>“Yes,” The king said, “But then that would draw the attention of the people. I don’t want to risk further chaos or distress.”</p><p>“And killing her wouldn’t cause distress?” Rapunzel said, practically gawking at her father.</p><p>The room sat in a restless quiet, making Cassandra aware of just how shallow her breathing had become. She couldn’t imagine taking a deep breath now though. Not when everything was in such a precarious state.</p><p>One of the guards beside her shifted and muttered to another about her back. She could feel the bandages becoming soggy and the tickle of a stream of blood running down into the waistline of her shorts. No one spoke up about it though.</p><p>“If I were to accept this alternative,” The king said, “What example would I be setting for our people? That the law is inconsistent and deals gently with some and firmly with others?”</p><p>Rapunzel threw her hand out to gesture at Cassandra, at her broken condition, her voice soft as though raising it at this point would send her into tears. “You call this gentle?” She shook her head and gained a step on the dais. “Hasn’t she suffered enough?”</p><p>The father and daughter stared at each other until Cassandra’s father stood from his seat on the side lines and said, “If I may be so bold, Your Majesty?”</p><p>The king rested the terms in his lap and nodded his permission.</p><p>“I was here when the princess was taken,” Her father began, looking to each member of the Royal family. “I saw your fear and your grief and I mourned alongside you. No one can doubt the pain a parent goes through when their child is stolen. The agony of wondering if they would ever return. If they are hurting too…”</p><p>Cassandra didn’t have the energy to give him more than a weak glare as he looked at her with more of that fake sentiment.</p><p>He continued to the king, “I know our situations are different on the surface but you’ve known Cassandra as long as I have. She grew up inside these walls. Played, served, in these halls. All she ever worked for and dreamed about was protecting this land… I don’t know if it was more demonic influence or her own choices that led her to her recent actions and I don’t really care. Either way it doesn’t change the root problem.”</p><p>“And what root would that be?” The king asked, “Illness?”</p><p>“Pain,” Her father said and Cassandra strangely didn’t feel the need to stuff her ears with more soothing cactus at his voice this time.</p><p>He finished, “My daughter’s hurting, Your Majesty. I ask that you let me help her. Let her come home.”</p><p>Again, no one dared breathe a sound as the king and queen held a silent conversation.</p><p>Then the king stood. Looking to each person before lingering on Cassandra, he said, “I have heard both sides of the case. I will need some time to deliberate privately and will come back with the verdict.”</p><p>As the king and queen exited the throne room, the hand in her hair reappeared and forced Cassandra back into a bow.</p><p>Even the splitting pain that rushed through her wounds couldn’t distract Cassandra from the greatest uncertainty she’d ever faced.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun dun... Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger! And sorry if this chapter stunk... not every one can be a winner :/</p><p>Thank you to everyone who's been a continued support to this story! You are the reason I write! </p><p>See you next chapter (and last of part one) for... The Verdict!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Verdict</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>In the ruins, a healthy distance from where the dust was still settling and the Captain’s cry still echoing, the blue girl—whose identity had still been shrouded in mystery—hovered at Cassandra’s side. </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“You are going to leave him?” The girl questioned, no concern or judgement in her lilting voice but rather a mild intrigue.</em>
  
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  <em> Cass sunk further into the chalky moss-striped wall at her back and glared. “What of it?”</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Dehydration could claim him quickly.”</em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“The rocks left an opening,” Cass said, “He’ll find his way out.”</em>
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  <em>The girl floated unpropelled and undisturbed by the wind howling through the stone labyrinth around them. The girl’s gaze locked on Cass, gleaming. “And if he doesn’t?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Those words. Those five traitorous words that had fallen from his lying loveless mouth looped in Cassandra’s mind. He’d ordered her to surrender. Her dad. He dared ask her why she’d turned on Rapunzel. He’d painted her as the one in the wrong. </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She shouldn’t be surprised and she shouldn’t care.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cassandra shoved off the stones and dusted the dirt and chalk off her gloved hands. Dusted off those words. She couldn’t care anymore. He was no longer her concern, as she’d learned she’d never been his. The choice wasn’t even hers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She answered her comrade, “Then he should’ve picked a different side.”</em>
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  <em>Unaware of the hovering girl’s cheshire grin, Cass strode for the tree-line. Strode for wherever destiny would take her and left her weaknesses behind in the dust. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Court is readjourned. His Majesty King Frederic presiding.”</p><p>The golden glass-like surfaces of the throne room’s tiles were captivating. The diamond-like grooves running between, connecting, and framing each like a vast chessboard were equally so. Despite all the years she’d spent playing on and then maintaining them, she’d never studied the floorwork with such scrutiny. Having her face hovered an inch from it now changed that.</p><p>Just as hours before, Cassandra was blind to the scene on the dais during the Royal Advisor’s announcement. Blinded by her pain and the golden tiles reflecting her magic-transformed blue eyes and the muzzled remnant of her face until the many hands subduing Cass lifted her from the bow.</p><p>But this time, she didn’t have the energy to engage in a silent battle of wills with the king. Instead, Cass kept her eyes on the bright tiles and pondered why the normal plum-purple carpet was absent. She blinked at the floor. Had they removed it just for today? For her trial? Due to the blood dripping from her back to the ground, the carpet was lucky it was absent.</p><p>Cass swayed in her chains and in her guard’s grip before they tensed back to boulder rigidity. She moaned against the steel in her mouth. Yep. Luck, luck, lucky carpet.</p><p>A heavy hand reappeared in her hair, and she readied her body to bend back down but strangely the hand tilted her further up.</p><p>“…terms will need to face further amendment,” A low voice—the king? Yes, that’s him—was saying, “But I am amicable toward this alternative.”</p><p>Fidgeting at the foot of the dais, Princess Rapunzel asked, “And what would these amendments be?”</p><p>“An increase of security to begin with; Such as a posting of at least two guards around the houses’ perimeter and a routine inspection of quarters and of her person.”</p><p>Cassandra’s warm breaths huffed back in her face in the mask and she longed to be free of the gag, free of the many hands and chains restraining her, so she could give some type of protest as her father met the princess’ gaze and nodded.</p><p>Rapunzel sighed. “We are willing to accept those changes.”</p><p>They hadn’t even glanced her way. This was her fate they were deciding yet she had no say. No voice. But silence was not new to her life.</p><p>Against the will of the hand in her hair, Cass looked again to the board of tiles. At the square she sat upon. A knight; that was the piece she had believed herself to be in this game of court. At one-point daring to even play the queen. Perhaps she’d been merely a pawn all along, or perhaps this was what checkmate looked like.</p><p>Cassandra bit back a groan as her back, leg, everything, screeched their complaints and snapped her attention back up to the king.</p><p>“If I were to place Cassandra under these terms,” The king said to her father, “Would you be up for it?”</p><p>Her father approached the dais with clipped steps and a taut stance as though still the Captain heeding his puppeteer’s directive. “I have already prepared my home for the requirements stated in the terms.”</p><p>The king nodded. “I have no doubt of that, but I’m asking on a more personal level. Would you be up for the task of guarding your own daughter?”</p><p>“Yes, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“You would be responsible for enforcing the rules of this arrangement and accountable for her actions while she is in your custody,” The king said, “I understand just how hard it can be to balance the role of the father with the role of a leader, my friend. And in this circumstance, you must be able to view her as a prisoner first and family second. The safety of Corona must be priority.”</p><p>Still not looking her way, her father fired back, “I understand, Your Majesty. It will not be a problem.”</p><p>“Very well. I am not entirely at ease with this arrangement…” King Frederic said, tapping the scrolled papers in his hand before giving a small smile to his daughter. “But I will approve it.”</p><p>Rapunzel melted with a loud sigh and spun to Cass’ father, beaming brighter than her swinging braid or the sunshine pouring into the space.</p><p>Cass wanted to scream. Her heart and lungs declared war with the other as her air ceased and her pulse raged. As the king at last cornered her with his stony stare. Every word that he spoke was like a mighty hammer on the nails of her invisible coffin.</p><p>“Cassandra, you are hereby found guilty of high treason against The Crown. You will be transferred to your father’s custody tomorrow morning where you will serve under the agreed upon terms of home incarceration for life or until such a time that your case needs to be revisited. Should you break the terms of your confinement through attempting escape or attempting harm against The Crown or it’s people again there will be no second trial but rather your immediate sentence will be death by hanging.” The king paused. “Do not throw away the mercy you have been given today.</p><p>“In addition to this, you are hereby deemed <em>Attained</em>. Any property of substantial worth you possess—such as your weapons and horse—as well as anything you may have been inline to inherit are denied to you and any future descendants and henceforth and forevermore belong to The Crown.</p><p>“You will also bear this—The Mark of Treachery—without concealment while within our kingdom’s borders for identification and for that which lends to the safety and wellbeing of Corona’s citizens.”</p><p>Over the increasing ringing in her ears, Cassandra barely caught the last piece of her sentencing. But she did catch it, and it didn’t make any sense. While numerous were her wounds and undoubtedly future scars, she didn’t recall receiving any such official mark.</p><p>It turned out the princess wasn’t any more in the know. “The Mark of—What is that?”</p><p>Her father, on the other hand, looked about as close to throttling the king as she’d ever seen. “Your Majesty, I protest! This measure is completely unnecessary!”</p><p>The king ignored the remarks and gestured to the far doors. “Send them in, Captain.”</p><p>Cassandra knew what the Mark of Treachery was. She’d heard about it from everyone, read about it in her school books. A year after she’d been adopted by her dad and from behind a fern—her favorite and most used hide-and-seek-spot—she’d even glimpsed the fresh blistered marking on the arm of a moaning prisoner being dragged from the throne room.</p><p>She’d dreamed about that marking for the next week. About the scream she heard just before from the other side of the doors. When she’d asked her father about what that big scar in the shape of a <em>T</em> meant, he’d brushed her off with the answer that she didn’t need to worry about what it meant but to stay away from anyone with one.</p><p>Cass understood now that it was a life-long brand to mark one as a traitor to their homeland. As a danger. As a despised and untrustworthy criminal.</p><p>She understood. But through the haze of her complaining broken and tired body, what it meant for <em>her</em> didn’t click until three guards entered. Until the Captain and those guards stopped beside her with a smoking brassier full of smoldering coals and a long iron tool.</p><p>Her gag swallowed her shout of protest, but the many chains on her shrieked it throughout the hall. The hands already gripping her tightened to bruising pressure as she struggled, as the Captain lifted the half black half blazing red and yellow rod from the coals.</p><p>Uninhibited voices were crying their protests. The queen, the princess, and her dad. Hands outstretched to her, to the king, pleading, distressed. None stepped forward. She was alone in a room full of actors and monsters.</p><p>Waves of heat rippled off the letter baring element as it neared Cass. That life altering element. Cass caught the Captain’s anguished brown-eyes and surprised herself by letting out a muffled sob. She wondered if he read the words in her wide-eyes. The plea; <em>Not this</em>.</p><p>Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps she wasn’t even thinking straight now that her pain-tonic had fully worn off. After everything they’d done to her. Everything they’d been prepared to condemn her to earlier… perhaps her panic was amiss. Because if she could speak, she would tell them to let those things happen. Lock her back in the dungeon and throw away the key. Burn her at the stake. Hang her. Behead her. Let her die in glorious martyrdom. But <em>not this</em>.</p><p>Fitzherbert’s expression grew strained as he whispered softly, just for her ears, “I’m so sorry.” His features morphed back to stoicism faster than a blink.</p><p>Cass felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her. But the cold wasn’t enough to keep her from sweating or from feeling the tiny hairs on her arm begin to singe as the glowing letter hovered an inch away.</p><p>Many more hands engulfed her then as the Captain ordered, “Hold her steady.”</p><p>Her guards yanked her head to the side, stilling it. The bandage protecting a deep cut winding across her shoulder was ripped away entirely. The underside of her upper arm was gripped—offered like a beast at altar.</p><p>Rapunzel’s tear-filled yells continued, unheard and dismissed by her father the king. The queen held onto her, sheltered the princess in her arms. She told her not to watch.</p><p>The Captain shoved the iron onto her arm. A hissing sizzling of skin and metal. And Cassandra screamed.</p><p>The few seconds of searing were an eternity. An unending, irreversible shredding of her past identity.</p><p>When the iron and the extra hands ripped away, fire remained licking, feasting. Cass felt the large shape it left down to her soul. But the burning didn’t coax another sob from her. And the tears it’d brought forth it ate away.</p><p>Once she had the strength to lift her head, her father’s anguished eyes were the first she found. And she let him see.</p><p>She found the Captain’s eyes, then the king’s. And she let them see.</p><p>She let her eyes scream what she could not. She let them see her death and rebirth. Let them see her promise to all.</p><p>Let them do what they would. Tear her to ribbons, lock her in any hole. She would not give in. She would not yield. She was a blade fresh from the forging.</p><p>Cass met the princess’ swimming eyes.</p><p>She would not lose. But for the very last time… she would wait.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And now it's onto PART TWO!<br/>Hope you're all ready for da ride! *Puts on sunglasses*<br/>Just also fyi, A traitor back in the 18th century Europe was often deemed "Attained" upon their sentencing and part of that was them losing any land or property they owned to The Crown and then there was also this thing called "Corruption of blood" where they couldn't inherit or pass down anything to their children. So that part in this chapter I didn't make up, they really did that back in the day.</p><p>I love any constructive tips, fangirling/boying comments, or any thoughts :D</p><p>See ya next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Cage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all! Welcome to part two! A note: In private prisons in the UK (at least back in the 18th century) a head of a prison was called a "Director" rather than a "Warden" but the title has the same meaning... Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>PART TWO</strong>
</p><hr/><p>They moved his daughter under the cover of night. Well technically morning, as it was well past twilight and the town crier’s yawns could almost be heard in the space between clanking armor and snorting horses.</p><p>The sharpness of the oncoming winter’s air was nearly getting away with murder in the sun’s absence. Every breath that shivered out of the three dozen men gathered in the dungeons’ cobblestone courtyard left in bursting clouds of fog. But even those clouds disappeared quickly. Not foolish enough to remain in the cold like the rest of them.</p><p>The newly appointed Director followed the urge to throw his cloak around his daughter’s nearly-bare frame when at last she was marched from the groaning doors of the dungeons, out past where he stood, and into the iron prison wagon. He grimaced. Marching her was a generous phrasing.</p><p>“Okay, I think I got everything,” Princess Rapunzel said, scurrying from a side entrance with an overflowing crate in her arms and puffing a loose strand of hair covering her tired face. “I have her books, her little stuffed owl, her favorite pillow and blankets, her maps—oh and I found—!”</p><p>If he hadn't known any better, he would’ve thought Cassandra to have slammed the windowless wagon’s door shut rather than the guard currently locking it.</p><p>The princess turned down-cast eyes back to her bundle. “I found this.” She pulled out a small golden coin with the kingdom’s crest attached to a purple ribbon.</p><p>The Director recognized it as the medal the king had bestowed on Cassandra for stopping the Saporian’s theft attempt. A medal of honor… Two years ago seemed like another lifetime now.</p><p>“I was hoping,” Rapunzel continued, “Seeing this reminder, this honoring of her, would… ya know…?”</p><p>The Director gave a small smile. “It’s a good thought, Your Highness. Just—” He took the warm medal in his frozen fingers and snaped off the small pin on the back. “—can’t keep this part.”</p><p>“Right,” The pink-nosed princess took the pin with a dainty gloved hand and passed the crate to him in exchange. “Her clothes are in there too. And her tops—well the sleeves anyway— now meet the… the requirements. I altered them myself. My father said to just take all the sleeves <em>off</em> but I…  couldn’t bring myself do that.”</p><p>The Director nodded. He didn’t want to think about all the things he was going to <em>have</em> to bring himself to do for the next… well… remainder of his life. “I’m sure it’ll be just fine. Thank you, Princess.”</p><p>“Do you have the final copy of the list?”</p><p>He thought of the wad of papers burning a hole a few feet away in his saddlebag. “I do.”</p><p>The princess chewed her lip. “Did they change a lot?”</p><p>“More than we’d anticipated,” He sighed. The princess hadn’t been at the hours long meeting between just himself, Eugene, and King Frederic in the Captain’s office as they’d made final revisions to the terms of his daughter’s confinement. He was glad she’d missed it. She didn’t need any more stress.</p><p>It’d been brutal. He hadn’t let himself be intimidated by the king and stood his ground on certain unacceptable measures they’d wanted to add—like restricting Cassandra to her room twenty-three hours of the day. But he’d compromised on more of the terms than not. He hated that most of them were actually necessary.</p><p>If he were to be honest, he was dreading returning to his home. Once their group arrived, he would have to begin enforcing every one of those terms. The reasonable and the cruel ones. At least this transfer was the most of the terms the princess would have to see. Ever, if things went how they were planned to be. Cassandra would never even see the princess again and vice versa.</p><p>The Director swept his gaze across the cobblestone courtyard, at the nick he knew was on the far wall that very few people knew had been placed there not by his daughter but by <em>him</em> when he’d been trying to teach Cassandra how to use her first bow and arrow, through the tight ranks of his—Correction: <em>Fitzherbert’s</em>—men along and atop the walls of the space he used to call home for so long. This would be the last he’d see of the palace and its residents as well. So many memories…</p><p>“Please take care of her.”</p><p>The Director looked back to the princess only to follow her gaze to the wagon where his daughter and two guards were enclosed. He said, “As much as she’ll let me.”</p><p>He met the Captain’s stare through their clouded breaths and over the wagon’s roof as he mounted Maximus. Eugene gave a curt nod. <em>Time to go.</em></p><p>Half of the squad mounted their steeds as well while the other half enclosed in uniform ranks around the wagon. This was to lessen the noise of their entourage and therefore lessen the chances of people’s attention. Hopefully.</p><p>With a respectful bow, he said, “It was an honor, Your Highness.”</p><p>But he didn’t get away that easy. The princess threw her arms around his neck. “Goodbye, Captain.”</p><p>He cleared his throat and blinked against the sudden rush of tears and mounted his horse before they could do something as ridiculous as fall. The things might just freeze on his cheeks in this weather.</p><p>The Captain gave the command and the gates were opened and their group set in motion. Before the hooves, boots, and rumbling wagon wheels could drown her out, the Director just caught the princess’ words.</p><p>Whispered to the wagon door and carried in the wind. “I love you, Cassandra. Please come back home to me soon.”</p><hr/><p>“Welcome to your forever home,” A guard taunted his daughter as they threw open the door of the wagon. A short burst of blue light scattered from inside the wagon’s black depths.</p><p>The Director wanted to smack the smirking guard upside his helmet for the comment. In fact, there wasn’t much stopping him…</p><p>“Let’s save the wise cracks, Lieutenant, and get her inside,” Eugene ordered, shouldering his way in-between the guard and the emerging party.</p><p>“Careful.” He found himself lurching forward at his daughter’s jostling descent—or rather <em>fall</em>—from the wagon.</p><p>Despite the chill, sweat beaded her pinched brow. A stream of moans and groans issued from behind her muzzle.</p><p>Eugene and the medic were on it though. Muttering in low soothing tones and taking her in their gentler hands.</p><p>The Director tucked the crate of his daughter’s things into his side and turned back to unbolt the door to his modest estate and led the way in ahead of the trio. “Right in here,” He said, stopping just outside the sole bedroom on the left side of the house. The sole room with bars over its bare corner windows. And without a door.</p><p>Cassandra continued to moan as they laid her on her side on the bed not much wider than herself. But the medic was quick to swoop in with blessed relief tonics. <em>After</em> they removed the muzzle.</p><p>He knew what else she needed. The Director dug through the crate’s contents until a soft little wingtip was felt. He set the pile down just inside her door and crossed to her bed. He laid the ever-watchful well-loved brown owl right at her side where he belonged. The Director smoothed a frazzled lock back from his daughter’s face before getting out of the medic’s way. He didn’t miss her flinch.</p><p>“Anderson, Richard,” Eugene was saying quietly, “You two can begin your rotation around the perimeter. Martin, how are the windows?”</p><p>“In order, Captain.”</p><p>“Good. Pete, kitchen?”</p><p>The guard nodded. “Secure, sir.”</p><p>“Double good. Director,” Eugene turned his way, the late hour doing nothing to help the extreme weariness slowing his usually spry motions. “Please tell me we are all clear on the terms and we can get out of your hair now.”</p><p>The Director nodded, “Everything’s understood, Captain. I believe I can take it from—”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The voice was so small, so <em>exhausted</em> and pained that he almost missed it. But it was enough to spin him back to his daughter.</p><p>The guards had shoved her head back and pinched her nose shut. The awaiting muzzle hovered over her mouth.</p><p>The Director acted first and didn’t ask questions later. He yanked the guard’s hand off her nose and growled, “You put that back on her at your own risk.” He turned back to the Captain and pointed to the offending piece. “She’s not wearing that in my house.”</p><p>“Of course not. Keep that off, private. And—” Eugene tossed the closest guard a ring of keys. “—take her link-system off too.”</p><p>“About time,” The Director grumbled, then said to the guard with the horrible contraption dangling in his grasp. “There’s a fireplace right over there that could finally put it to good use.”</p><p>It was a welcome sound to hear the majority of the men in the room agree wholeheartedly.</p><hr/><p>                                                                                            RULES OF CONDUCT FOR</p><p>                                                                                             HOME INCARCERATION</p><p>                                                                                           BY ORDER OF THE CROWN<br/><br/></p><p>Should ANY of the rules outlined below be broken it will be counted as an escape attempt and will result in immediate relocation to the Royal Dungeons to be followed by execution.</p><p>The rules for the Imprisoned are as follows:</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> leaving the house unsupervised</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> weapons OR sharp OR heavy objects</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> fighting OR sparring OR running; Stationary exercises are permitted</p><p>-Bedroom confinement is to begin each eventide at DUSK and revoked no sooner than DAWN by the Director; Except in the case of an emergency</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> contact with unauthorized persons OR access to messenger animals</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> kitchen access; See Director for mealtime protocol</p><p>-Will comply with ALL supervision and instruction of the Director</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> tampering with the Moonstone Reversal Devices OR other restraints</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> tampering with window bars OR locks around the house</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> doors OR shutters OR other objects blocking OR inhibiting full view of the Imprisoned at any time</p><p>-<strong>No </strong>covering official mark</p><p>-Personal and hygienic items (i.e. a hairbrush) will be dispensed temporarily by and may be used ONLY under the supervision and at the discretion of the Director</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> refusal of Guard Inspections OR corrections</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> coming within THREE METERS of non-Guard personnel</p><p>-<strong>No</strong> long OR loose OR thick clothing that inhibits Guard Inspections; Certain exceptions will be made for clothing for the outdoors in winter seasons</p><p>IN ADDITION: The Imprisoned is allowed outdoor access for no more than TWO HOURS in the AFTERNOON of ONE day in a seven-day period under restraint and the supervision of the Director and two armed Guardsmen. The Director shall make the rules of these outings known in full to the Imprisoned upon day of departure.</p><p>                                                                                                                                           DECREED BY                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Frederic the first,                                                                                                                                                                                                         King of Corona</p><p> </p><p>Lovely. Simply a <em>lovely</em> document that hung beside Cassandra’s doorway like an anvil ready to drop. The paper’s four corners were nailed securely by almost invisibly flat, impossible to pry out, nails and the nauseating purple royal seal in its bottom corner. Or rather that part nailed it to her.</p><p>Cassandra’s life had taken quite the turn since it’s decree.</p><p>For the past two months, the Royal physician continued to visit every day to help with her recovery. Sometimes more. But they were finally beginning to ebb. Her brand had healed to a permanent stark white scar as of a month ago and never became infected—which was something the medic had cautioned and then mentioned in relief nearly every visit before and after it’d healed. Her burned feet likewise recovered and scarred. Her smashed hand and knee, however... It’d been months since her torture in the dungeons now and she was still unable to make a single finger on her hand twitch or stand on her bad knee for long at all. But at least her smashed hand wasn’t her fighting hand. And she did still have one good knee. Pros and cons she supposed.</p><p>As for the conditions of her new imprisonment… For the first couple months, she’d lucked out on missing the experience of a guard-check in full swing. But she hadn’t been left to her own devices.</p><p>The plain-clothed soldiers marching in rotation around the house day and night would peek in her coverless windows every time they passed. They’d come in at shift-change and talk to her… <em>Director</em>… too before peeking in on her again and around every surface in her room. But that was all. It was odd to admit it but they’d actually given her some privacy. But once she’d healed enough to be on her feet, that changed. <em>Drastically.</em></p><p>The Guard Inspections. Oh, how Cass loved those.</p><p>Six varying days of the week. In the dead of night, in the middle of sleep—both hers and her Director’s— they’d come. In the middle of a bathroom break. In the middle of a meal. In the beginning or end of the all the aforementioned. Anytime. She had to be accessible <em>any</em> of the time.</p><p>On her knees and hands folded atop her head, until they could move her to a wall. That was how they expected her to be each time they entered. The position to assume. But they never got it. Not once had Cass submitted herself in such a way. She didn’t care that this set them on edge or frustrated them. In fact, she found their red faces entertaining. She didn’t fight them when they’d bark orders at her and mold her into position against the wall. She’d endure their roaming hands as they searched her for weapons she had no way of getting. But that was as much as she’d give them.</p><p>She’d suffered enough degradation.</p><p>For the Inspections themselves, there was hardly a centimeter they didn’t check. Of the house or of her.</p><p>They checked each individual bar on her bedroom windows. Shook the immovable rods not unlike a frustrated toddler would in a crib.</p><p>They checked every room to which she had access. And unless the search was for dust and useless tapestries or plants, they were always going to be disappointed.</p><p>They felt along the top, around the edges and sides, and underneath her mattress, bedding, and bedframe. She smiled from against the wall during one of the inspections as one of them found her extra moistened handkerchief she’d left especially for them inside her pillowcase.</p><p>And of course, to begin with, they always checked her. They always ensured the devices on her neck, wrists, and ankles were secure with unannounced—sometimes slightly choking—tugs. Ensured they were functioning with a sharp direction for her to show them. When they snickered at the lack of rocks that she willed to skewer them, she wasn’t sure if the order was more of a test or a taunt. She supposed it didn’t really matter. Not with that knock-out device in their hands.</p><p>A harmless looking little black box, this device was yet another piece of the collection of gadgetries that Varian had invented to subdue her. Gadgetries the <em>princess</em> had authorized. Cass had yet to experience its power but the explanation had been enough for her. All it needed to do was touch her skin while the user pressed a button and she would be out for a day. It was essentially her off switch. With that kept only feet away from her during their pat-downs, she wouldn’t resist. Or any other time as her Director had one too. If only <em>she</em> could get her hands on one… But unlikely.</p><p>While she was surprised by just how much of the time she was free from restraint—save for the MRDs which never left her though goodness knows how often she tried to remedy that—she was still under lock and key frequently enough to hamper any plans for leaving. At night especially so.</p><p>As stated in the rules and enforced and checked by the guards, each night at sunset she was secured by a chain between her ankles and another around that to the top rung of her iron ladder-like footboard. In addition to that her hands were also bound with so short a chain she could hardly fold her wrists to touch it. And she stayed trussed up like that each night until sunrise.</p><p>While she eventually found a way to sleep in such a state, being tethered to the bed at night made for many awkward shouts across the house of, “I have to pee!”</p><p>Between her need for the chamber pot and random wake ups from the guards, Cass was surprised her Director had the stamina to follow her around during the day. All day. In each of the three rooms she was allowed. The worst part was he was rarely a silent shadow.</p><p>Her only moments of daytime peace were the few occasions he needed to leave the house and she was swapped a babysitter. She’d never been so thankful for the presence of guards. Silent guards. Though they did have a tendency to stare.</p><p>She didn’t really blame them. The first time she’d seen the bold <em>T</em> standing out on her arm she’d done the same. For a long time. It still caught her eye when passing a reflective surface or when changing. Her fingers also found it frequently and she found herself more often than not lowering her short sleeves or pinching together her slitted long ones. Finding out that her perfectly good shirts had been <em>ruined</em> by such ridiculous alterations had made for a lovely homecoming.</p><p>Lovely. That really was the word for everything. Just lovely.</p><p>Being chided by her Director to not cover her brand even though it was just the two of them in the house; lovely. Being reduced to staring at the fire, words on pages she’d read a thousand and one times, or being watched by her Director or guards in her doorless open windowed room; lovely. Honestly, she felt like a fish in a fishbowl in that bedroom. Again; <em>lovely.</em></p><p>Best of all, she realized on her hundredth time counting how long it took for the tromping guards to make it full circle around the house, she was <em>bored.</em> At least the dungeons had been exciting. Cass’ knee ached at the thought.</p><p>“I’ve kept this in my room as I had to check everything, but I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner.”</p><p>Her Director jerked her from her dazed stare out at the falling snow through the houses’ front window. Cass blinked at the bundle of clothes and colorful knickknacks in his arms. She went back to watching the snowflakes showering. Oh, there went another guard. He was three seconds early that time.</p><p>“Cassandra,” Her father sighed her name.</p><p>“Director.”</p><p>“At least take a look. Maybe you’ll find something more entertaining than waiting for the guards to make a mistake.”</p><p>That had her attention. Cass met her Director’s glare with her own. “That’s not what I’m doing.”</p><p>Her father didn’t drop his narrowed stare and just gave a disbelieving hum. He crossed the distance to her room and plopped the pile on her floor. “It’s here if you’re interested.”</p><p>A half hour more of watching the snow—and the guards that watched her back— Cass conceded to rummaging through the pile. The first things—her old tapestries and purple and gold flags of Corona and a dozen of the sun-splotch’s paintings— she’d found actually had been entertaining. At least slinging them in the main room’s fire had been.</p><p>The next thing that’d tumbled from the pile had confused her. Her old stuffed owl. While her memories of first moving in were hazy at best due to her physical state, she could’ve sworn she’d had the thing with her in bed those long weeks of recovery. Might’ve even cuddled it in her pain tonic-addled moments. But she had no desire for it now. It wasn’t the real owl after all.</p><p>She threw the thing across the room and went back to her pile without another thought about the thing.</p><p>That was until its bottom smacked the wall as though she’d thrown a ring.</p><p>Cass cut a side-ways glance to where her Director sat reading across the way in an arm chair. His eyes half-lidded and his grip on the book ever decreasing. She squinted, watching for that wobbling lip he always displayed in true sleep.</p><p>Cass watched the shadow on her wall and waited for the marching guard to pass.</p><p>The second only a pure cloud greyed-sunbeam remained, she glanced once more to her napping Director. Bingo, there was the lip.  She dropped the soft-shelled book in her hands back in the pile and forced herself to stand slowly. To cross casually and silently to the plush.</p><p>She snatched it up and palmed its bumpy rear. Cass glanced to both sides again before reaching through a holed patch… and pulled a sleek steel pin from its wool.</p><p>Making the hole bigger, she crammed her fingers inside. There was another pin. Two pointed almost three-inch hairpins. No, not two. She dove back in. <em>Eleven</em> pins.</p><p>She had forgotten where she’d stored her collection of pins. After a long day of chasing Rapunzel around, back when she’d been her servant, she must’ve been too tired to put them in her jewelry chest and… in here instead.</p><p>Cass breathed a laugh. She didn’t think her father stupid—well at least not on the level with the man he’d chosen for Captain. And he must’ve checked all her things as any trace of weapons—concealed or not—were missing from her things… but he’d missed this.  </p><p>Cassandra smiled down at the jam-stained plush. He must’ve been too tender with it. Thinking the gift he’d made her when she was just a toddler and new to the palace to be as harmless as she had been. Probably thinking it’d be meaningful to her.</p><p>This owl had a lot of meaning alright.</p><p>Cass stuffed all but one of the pins back inside before tossing the plush onto her bed. Sinking down the wall between her pile and the window, Cass craned her neck to see if the next guard on rotation was nearing yet. The snore from the main room told her the opposite coast was clear too.</p><p>Point of the pin first, she jammed it into her cuffs. She pried and jabbed against the metal hinge-less hinges. They had to give. There had to be a way for these to come off. She took to stabbing into the little windows of blue along the bands. They couldn’t be indestructible.</p><p>Panting, she suppressed a growl and tried with the set on her ankles. Nothing but the pin itself was showing even a chip. Her lip curled and her power thrummed. <em>Come on</em>.</p><p>She ran her finger along the sides of the devices on her wrists again and found the slightest of catches. She pulled it closer. Missed that before. Maybe… She slid the pin into the catch… <em>Come on. Work.</em></p><p>A thud of a book hitting the floor sounded from the main room and a snort and sleepy call of her name followed.</p><p>Cassandra hid the pin just in time for her Director to stumble into the doorway. He yawned and eyed the open book in her hands. “Find anything good?”</p><p>Cass turned a page, pretending to skim, and caught sight of the treasure trove owl over the top. “Maybe a few things.”</p><hr/><p>The next morning, Cassandra was almost happy to wake to the sound of chains. The fire had long since fizzled to embers and she’d been kept on the brink of real sleep by her shivers. Her white gap-knitted blanket was excellent for preventing her from concealing something in it but terrible for keeping out the cold.</p><p>Her MRD cuffs were terrible at that too. Like un-melting ice-cubes.</p><p>But the sight and sound of the blazing fire across the way in the main room had her spirits lifting. So much so she nearly wished her Director a good morning. She almost gagged.</p><p>Breaking his habit of wishing <em>her</em> a good morning, her Director paused in his unlocking her from the footboard and leveled a glare at her. “Alright,” He said, “Where is it?”</p><p>She raised a brow. “Am I supposed to know what ‘it’ is?”</p><p>The Director glanced at the windows where no guards were currently lurking and jostled the chain and thereby her feet. “You’ve picked this. I don’t know how you’ve been hiding it from the guards but hand it over.”</p><p>Cass sighed and rolled her eyes back to that roaring fire. Why couldn’t he accuse her <em>after </em>he’d let her up? “I don’t have anything.”</p><p>“Cassandra, don’t try me. This is serious. Hand it over. I’m not letting you up until you do.”</p><p>Inexplicably, Cassandra was transported back to simpler days when wrestling with her father was full of giggles and pride. The picture made anyone who witnessed grin ear to ear. A six-year-old little girl, pinning a man three times her size, proclaiming in her squeaky voice, “I’m not letting you up until you say I’m the boss!”</p><p>Perhaps it was for the sake of the memory, or more for the promise of getting to that insanely warm fireplace that made Cassandra smile… and ease a silver hairpin out between her teeth with her tongue.</p><p>Her Director scoffed and snatched the pin from her teeth. “Unbelievable. What else were you picking with this?”</p><p>“Oh, the palace gates. The armory. Uncle Monty’s for a snack.”</p><p>“Uh huh, very funny.” Her Director shook his head and finished unlocking her from the bed. She was not expecting him to proceed to snap the key to pieces within the keyhole.</p><p>Cass followed him out into the rest of the house and watched as he took a knife from his room and walked to the front door.</p><p>“Private!” Her Director called to one of the patrolling guards while leaning in the small space of the cracked door and scraping his knife over and over around the chain’s lock. Over and over her scratch marks. “Can you bring me a replacement for tonight? I broke the flimsy key off in the lock of this one.”</p><p>From then on, her Director began his own inspections. Inspections on a level she’d been previously spared by the guards.</p><p>On random nights after securing her in for bed, he’d tap his lips and say, “Alright. Let me see.”</p><p>The Director actually got a finger to her lips the first time, no doubt intending to check along the hidden crevices of her mouth. But the finger never entered. Though Cass kept her mouth open, welcoming and compliant, he took one glance in her eyes— at the prowling gleam in them— cleared his throat and retracted his hand to the bed. She was told to do it instead. Trace every dark passageway of her gums. The tongue at least got to reveal its secrets—or rather lack of—itself.</p><p>He checked her mouth almost nightly, yes, but he didn’t stop there.</p><p>Next, he checked her ears. Behind and inside; though <em>how</em> she was ever supposed to hide a metal pin in her ear was beyond her.</p><p>He checked up her nose. Still an even greater mystery.</p><p>Through her hair.</p><p>And finally, her navel. And if her flinch was more from being ticklish than from the humiliation, she’d never confess it.</p><p>Due to the even greater spontaneity of his checks than the guard checks, half the time she was caught with a pin.</p><p>“Geez, Cassandra,” He’d say upon discovering and wiping off another one. “Where are you even getting these from?”</p><p>As always when under interrogation, Cass gave no answer. At least not one he wanted. Occasionally she would turn the questioning on him. “Going to turn me in again? You’re great at that.”</p><p>Strangely he didn’t appreciate her questions. And even stranger… he never did report her.</p><p>Or so it’d seemed.</p><p>Two nights after her latest pin apprehension, once they’d both been lulled under that deep dream and drool-filled level of sleep that even the cascading moonbeams couldn’t reach, the front door burst open.</p><p>“Search every room!” A gruff voice barked over the rushed clomping of numerous boots. “Don’t overlook any crevice.”</p><p>Oh sun, she was going to be sick. She hadn’t heard that voice since her trial. Blinking heavily in the rush of candle light that filled her room, Cass just about lost the battle with her stomach when the Lieutenant marched in. Had he gotten even uglier? That couldn’t be possible.</p><p>She heard her Director demanding an explanation for their door-shattering entry but didn’t get a clear view of him until a tenth guard filed into her room. But by that time, her feet had been untethered from the bed. And she was flipped with her mattress through the air.</p><p>Her chains smacked the wood floor before the rest of her group. Everything sprawled. Her blanket, her pillow, her body, her plush owl—her <em>owl.</em></p><p>Thankfully nothing had spilled out of him. But when Cass jumped to grab it from where it’d rolled out from under the mattress, Maynard snatched it first.</p><p>“Lieutenant!”</p><p>Maynard ignored the Director’s enraged call from the doorway as he was too busy shoving the mattress off of Cassandra and then shoving her face-first against a wall.</p><p>Her cry went unacknowledged.</p><p>With an iron-like hand on the back of Cass’ neck and a sharp knee pinning her spine, Maynard said to the guards already upturning everything in the room, “Pry up the floor if you need to. It has to be in here.”</p><p>
  <em>“Lieutenant!” </em>
</p><p>“Where did you hide it?” Maynard hissed into her ear so hotly it nearly burned. “Did you stuff it in your little bird, huh?”</p><p>A hiss of pain escaped Cass and she pressed against the wall with her bound hands in an attempt to lessen the crushing of her hip bones. But neither the digging of the wall or the Lieutenant’s knee eased. This was what she got for finally sleeping soundly. She growled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Some piece of the furniture behind them snapped. His knee dug in harder. “Are you lying to me or just being difficult as always, witch? No matter, I’ll find out.”</p><p>Cassandra held her breath. He couldn’t look in the owl. He couldn’t look inside the owl. He couldn’t—He ripped the head clean off.</p><p>“Lieutenant! That’s enough!”</p><p>The Director shoved Maynard back from how close he’d began to lean against her but the immobilizing holds remained. Though they no longer held her attention.</p><p>The owl did. The headless, stuffing-shaken-free, empty owl. </p><p>The Lieutenant was saying, “You can’t interfere. If you have an issue with the way I do things, Sir, you can tell the Captain.”</p><p>“I <em>will</em> tell the Captain that you’re behaving in an uncalled-for manner!”</p><p>The argument and her twinging sure-to-be-bruised squashed cheek and hips were hardly priority to Cass. There had been eight pins left in that owl. Now there wasn’t a single one. How…? <em>Where…?</em></p><p>“We have reason to suspect the prisoner is in possession of a prohibited item. And I have the right to—”</p><p>“You have the right to check her and this room in a respectable manner. You do not have the right to brutalize them, Lieutenant.”</p><p>Maynard dropped the owl. The empty, incriminating evidence-free owl.</p><p>“Unless you’re willing to pay for the damages, you can continue your search in a professional manner,” Her Director said to the guards. Then to the Lieutenant in an almost unhinged snarl, “And you can get your knee off of my daughter.”</p><hr/><p>Once Maynard and the last of his twenty-man entourage left with their tails between their legs, her Director took the time to re-arrange the whole cottage’s furniture back to where it’d been improperly re-arranged. But not before re-stuffing and sewing Cass’ owl.</p><p>Secured back to her righted bed, Cassandra studied the ratty owl in her hands and listened to the bits of her Director’s mutterings she could pick up.</p><p>“…like I don’t know protocol for these things… I was doing this before you were born, runt—"</p><p>His shadow passed over her as he stomped past her doorway with a broom handle clutched in his white knuckled hand. The brisk sweeping of bristles rushed over rug and wood.</p><p>“—rip off the owl’s head… I wish it’d’ve been <em>his</em> head—”</p><p>Cass ran her fingers over the bumpy stitch work on the owl’s neck. Her Director’s sewing skills had always been impeccable. But this hadn’t been a popped seam. And with the moth and age-worn thin and holey fabric… well not only was this repair a medical miracle, this owl had simply seen better days. She didn’t know why he’d even bothered to fix it.</p><p>“I’m going to try to get a couple more hours of shut-eye in before sunrise, Cass,” The Director said entering her room to cap the candle next to her. “Do you need anything?”</p><p><em>An explanation.</em> Cass slapped the owl down beside her and dismissed the urging. “I’m fine.”</p><p>The Director held the little golden cap just above the dancing candle’s flame. He frowned at her reddened cheek. Frowned at the wall where she’d been pinned earlier. “About earlier—”</p><p>Cass huffed, sat up, and blew the candle out. She flopped back onto her side and forced the chains to let her feet turn too. “Director.”</p><p>A soft sigh. “Good night, Cassandra.”</p><p>She waited until his heavy footfalls made it out of her room to slip the pin from her mouth and into the owl.</p><p>She grinned at the plush, petting its little squishy beak. They weren’t the only ones with surprises.</p><p>She grinned over her shoulder, expecting to see her captor’s retreating back. Who she saw instead was her mirror image, sans moonstone, leaning in the doorway… shaking her head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again, welcome to Part Two :)</p><p>I have done and continue to do extensive research into EVERY little and big thing for this entire story so I hope this is helping things feel like the 18th century Europe setting while still Tangled :) And for my fellow USA-ers Three meters is ten feet so Cass can't come within ten feet of non-guard persons.</p><p>I felt really insecure about this chapter but I hope you enjoyed? Favorite/least favorite parts? *Listening*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TO EVERYONE WHO HAS SUPPORTED THE STORY THIS FAR: THANK YOUUUU! We are nearing halfway! This chapter is a bit of a filler. But it is important for relationship plot lines. Next chapter is too. But hope you enjoy!</p><p>To the guest reviewer Crystal: I apologize for deleting your comment from last chapter. I am quite triggered by the C-word that was used in your review, though I do regret deleting rather than just asking you nicely to please edit the language. I hope I haven’t discouraged you from reading! I am glad you’re enjoying the story even though you’re understandably mad at the characters. Varian will be playing a very minor role in this story but just know he’s coming up! Hang in there!</p><p>"Romeo and Juliette" by William Shakespeare is quoted in this chapter and the character's feelings on the book do not reflect my own. I think the book deserving of it's praise and place of honor in history's classic tales. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter holiday came and went with little excitement.</p><p>A tankard of wassail cider. A plate of roasted ham with the traditional pile of appetite-killing pickled greens slopped on the side. And a frazzled looking tree Cassandra’s Director was all too excited to haul into their once-spotless main room. His attempts at getting Cass to join him in decorating the dying thing were ridiculous at best and shot down quicker than the rate of the thousand tiny falling bristles.</p><p>The gift of seeds he’d given her to help him plant in their small garden come spring was ridiculous. His grin as he’d tried to coax her into singing some traditional melodies was not only wasted breath but unbelievably ridiculous as well. The whole thing was ridiculous. It wasn’t like Cass even had a <em>reason</em> to celebrate anything. Unless she counted the passing of her first season in prison as of today. But that was what the space of wall over her bed was for.</p><p>One-hundred and twenty-one single chalk lines now marred the wooden space. Cass sighed and flopped back down onto her bed. Four months. She scanned the lines again and fiddled with the linked cuffs on her sore wrists. Why did it feel like so much longer? Why couldn’t it have <em>been</em> longer? That winter night her father had dragged on and on trying to rope her into festivities… Cass squinted at the wall… Maybe she <em>had</em> miscounted. That holiday night had to have lasted a month at least.</p><p>“Good morning,” Her Director said, striding into her room as confident and neat as ever.</p><p>There was also that time--after her pins had been discovered--that she’d been without an overnight fire in her room…Those nights may’ve been another month at least…</p><p>“Did you sleep alright?” He continued.</p><p>Perhaps she’d miscalculated how long she’d been recovering too… Maybe it'd been a year?</p><p>The sets of chains were removed from her feet.</p><p>“Okay… Though I’m not sure we can improve upon this cheery mood you’re in, I have an idea of something new we can do this afternoon. If you’re interested.”</p><p>Cassandra sat up to extend her bound hands. One of her routine vultures passed her windows and they met each other’s narrowed stare.</p><p>Her hands were freed and the Director lightly nudged her shoulder. “Are you listening?”</p><p>Cass rolled her eyes up to meet his.</p><p>“Would you be up for going outside?”</p><p>The budding golden glow of the new day rose through the bars into her room, highlighting the dust within. An all too inviting open line of freshly blossomed trees framed their land and stood proud and vivacious. A crimson feathered robin hopped and chirped about the dirt land in between, seeking his early meal. Did that dirt still feel as moist and soft as it looked? As she remembered? Did the air smell like those tree’s pink dogwood blossoms or perhaps like the crisp parting whisper of winter?</p><p>Cassandra limped over to her small heap of clothing and asked, “Do I have a choice?”</p><p>She tried to avoid looking at this part of her room when she could as it always made her itch to organize. She’d made the mistake of folding everything into clean-cut stacks only once. The guards could’ve at least folded them back after coming through like a tornado.</p><p>“Yes. You’re permitted a once a week outing but it’s not required,” Her Director said, “But seeing as the medic finally gave you clearance for your knee, I thought now might be a good time to have a change of scenery.”</p><p><em>Not change enough.</em> Cassandra tugged her last clean pair of pants from the bottom of the pile. “Fine.”</p><p>“You’re up for it?”</p><p>Cassandra nodded.</p><p>“Great!” He clapped. “You can help me plant the garden then.”</p><p>Cassandra whirled with a protest on her lips only to find herself alone in her room once more.</p>
<hr/><p>The cool spring breeze was so foreign. Almost an annoyance. But once the sea-hinted air got beyond ghosting her skin and into her lungs… Cass was in heaven. Standing there in the doorway, she tipped her head back and drank it in. Even the chains being locked around her couldn’t ruin it.</p><p>The brown oak floor at the door creaked as her Director finished linking her hands together and circled behind. Cassandra brought her attention back to earth—back to the two plain-clothed guards standing on the porch between her and freedom— and sucked in a quick breath as a connecting chain was cinched around her waist. She glared over her shoulder. <em>It didn’t need to be that tight. </em>“Are you going to tell me the rules, Director, or are you going to make them up as we go?”</p><p>Her Director didn’t rise to the bait and came back to tower in front of her. Eyes flat. “These are the <em>King’s </em>orders: You are not to go beyond forty meters from the house. You can walk around within that perimeter with me but you cannot go out of my sight or further than three meters from my reach. Same rules apply as always concerning no running, do not tamper with these, no hiding your mark, and if a visitor comes on property, we will immediately be returning indoors and confinement to your room will be required until they leave.”</p><p>Her Director tugged along the joints of her secure restraints and Cass scanned his face. “And do I get a stick to measure these forty meters?”</p><p>Her Director nodded over his shoulder. “The guards will be stationed out at the boundary line and they’ll follow along with us as we walk. I’m making you aware again, Cassandra: Do not go beyond the boundary line.” His brown eyes turned unwavering upon her. Pleading, in a way. “If you break this rule you will be shot and immediately transported to the Royal Dungeons.”</p><p>Cassandra took in the sleek crossbows in the guard’s arms and swallowed as an arrow was loaded into each. “How nice.”</p><p>Her Director picked a lumpy satchel up off the floor and slung it over his shoulder—a protective hand over the opening clasp.</p><p>Cassandra raised a brow at the motion. What use would she have for a bunch of vegetable seeds?</p><p>He asked, “Do you understand the rules?”</p><p>“I’m going to stand and watch you plant your silly garden for two hours and if not, I’m headed to the gallows. Does that sum it up?”</p><p>Her Director scowled. “Be serious, Cass.”</p><p>“I get it!” She said, “Run and I’ll be shot. I’ll stay with you, alright? Can we just get this over with?”</p><p>The guards led the way. Her father stayed right by her side—but he didn’t touch her. Cass side-eyed him suspiciously as they walked. She hadn’t expected such… trust. The quiet clinking of her wrist-to-waist restraints were quick to remind her there wasn’t that much.</p><p>“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Her Director asked, smiling at her. His regulation short hair unbothered by the breeze. “Don’t think you could ask for a better start to Spring.”</p><p>Cass had some notes. She rubbed her cheek across her shoulder, trying in vain to get a strand of her blue hair out of her mouth. She needed a trim already.</p><p>They continued to trudge straight for the pink and green tree line and Cass took in just how many surrounded the entire property. Evenly spaced about a meter apart, a smattering of their gaps were filled with chubby rose bushes. Beyond the blossoming line, stretched a forest as far back as she could see.</p><p>Behind the house was the same, though a small fenced corral sat beside a white painted stable and stole the attention off the trees. The hoof prints in the corral’s dirt told her there was at least one horse residing inside the shed.</p><p>She couldn’t tell what lay past the land’s border ahead of the house. The forest curved too sharply and took any exit out of sight but she could assume…</p><p>Her Director cleared his throat and had Cass snapping her gaze up to his. His disapproving stare encouraged her to look around at a later time.</p><p>They reached the boundary line and the guards pivoted around to face her.</p><p>“This is our stop.” Her Director said. He backed up just enough to turn her in a small circle. “Try to get an idea of the distance. They’re going to follow us around going along this invisible line. Okay?”</p><p>Cassandra rolled her eyes but nodded and trudged back towards the house. He didn't have to spell it out for her.</p><p>In relative silence, Cass walked around the house with her Director enough times that she began to wonder if he wasn’t trying to create a moat. As they walked, she studied the blue and puffy cloud blotched sky. She studied the ants that ran freely across the dirt and kicked the clumps in her path. She tried to ignore all the eyes on her. When that didn’t work, she watched the guards out of the corner of her eye and caught glimpses of them in the reflections of the house’s windows. They stayed right with them. Step for step. Eyes never leaving her. Bows not aimed but at the ready.</p><p>She got lost a little too long in the sky at one point that her Director had to stop her from walking straight into a piece of fence. Cass looked to the left of the six planks and to the right. This piece was all there was to it. She looked at her Director with an arched brow. <em>Not much of a fence.</em></p><p>“It’s being built,” He said, “Had to wait until winter passed to continue.”</p><p>She walked on. She really didn’t care.</p><p>Try as she might, Cass couldn’t keep her pace leisurely as they approached the stable. She almost smiled at the whinnying inside. There was no lock but the latch sat just above her limited reach. She wondered if Fidella was in there… She asked her Director, “Can we go in?”</p><p>“Not this week,” He said with an apologetic smile. He turned her back toward the house. “C’mon, let’s go work in the garden.”</p><p>Cass didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but for as much as he’d been talking about this precious garden to her in the past month… the area of dirt that was exactly the same as the rest of the yard was a letdown. But in all fairness, it was outlined by a row of stones. Apple sized solid stones.</p><p>They’d both noticed them at the same time.</p><p>Her Director reached into his satchel and led her to stand up against the house. “On second thought, you can just watch me this time.”</p><p>Cass caught a glimpse of the black knock-out device as he slipped it from the bag into his pants pocket. Now his tight watch over the bag made sense. Cassandra sunk back against the house and glared at the guards across the way. She’d been so close to that stupid bag in the house.</p><p>Cass leaned up against the cool bricks for only a short while before she took to pacing. Other than adding further tension to the former Captain’s shoulders, the deal worked out: She paced and he worked. She studied every centimeter of the land and he occasionally called out to her, “Cassandra! Far enough.”</p><p>She’d come back… and go the opposite way. A little further… and further still. The thrill really shouldn’t have been as heart pounding as it was.</p><p>Those times he’d appear at her side and bring her back over to the garden with a firm grasp on her arm, saying, “You’re going too far.”</p><p>Around the hour mark, she ventured out and pushed the distance again. She could’ve sworn she heard the sweating guards raise their bows.</p><p>“Okay, if you’re not gonna cooperate, we’re going in.” Her Director’s strong dirt covered grip was on either side of her this time and his jaw tightened in response to her wild smirk. “Let’s go.”</p><p>Cass couldn’t wait for the next outing.</p>
<hr/><p>A week later they weren’t going back out but rather her father was pestering her about chores. <em>Laundry</em> of all things<em>. </em>He had to be joking. She told him as much.</p><p>“No, I mean it,” Her Director said, “Come help. They’re mostly your things in this load anyway.”</p><p>Cassandra went back to her reading. “Not happening.”</p><p>Clipped steps and the Director was pushing her book away from her face. “There’s a lot of chores to be done in this house and I can’t do them all by myself--on top of watching you. The least you can do is wash your own clothes.”</p><p>“Or you could stop watching me and do it yourself.”</p><p>“Right, and the second I do you’ll probably burn the house down.” Her Director left, muttering to himself about how she’s more bullheaded than she’d been as a teenager.</p><p>Cassandra continued onto the next scene of her book. <em>Enter <strong>Paris</strong> and his <strong>Page</strong>. Paris give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof. Yet put it out, for I would not be—</em></p><p>“Cassandra! Laundry. Out here. <em>Now.”</em></p><p>Cassandra snapped her book shut. Well it’s not like she hadn’t already read the ending a million and one times. Romeo and Juliet were idiots; there really wasn’t that much more to it in her opinion. She didn’t know why she even <em>had</em> that book.</p><p>Cass met her Director in the main room and dropped into the cushionless stool behind the wash basin. She recognized the laundry to be in the final stage of soaking and scrubbing before being put on the line. She’d wished he’d asked her to come help at the first stage; the stage where you mix the boiling water and clothes with the solid wooden bat. For two reasons. The least important being: “I don’t know how you expect me to do this with my hand.”</p><p>Her Director frowned. “Can you still not move it?”</p><p>“Would I have brought it up otherwise?”</p><p>“Have you been doing the exercises the Medic instructed you to do?”</p><p>Cass shrugged. “Some.”</p><p>The Director knelt beside her and popped the cork lid off the lye jar. He tapped her lifeless fingers with the circle. “Take this from me.”</p><p>She glared at the lid, at the fingers that had barely felt it, at her captor. “Why?”</p><p>“I want to see how well you’re progressing.”</p><p>The constant rotation of their clock’s silent hands could nearly be heard. “Planning on reporting to the Captain about me again?”</p><p>“No.” Her Director scowled. “I want to help you.”</p><p>Cassandra stood and began the return trip to her room. Forget the laundry, he could manage it himself. She preferred the company of the lovesick idiots. “I don’t need <em>anyone’s</em> help.”</p>
<hr/><p>Another two weeks of indoor confinement passed with chalk marks, re and re and re and re-reading, sit-ups, clawing at her devices ‘til she bled, and little else. When the end of the month drew near, Cass began to wonder if her Director had written off outdoor privilege altogether. But a few days later, he marched into her room.</p><p>He didn’t bid her good morning or unchain her from her night-binds. In fact, he added more.</p><p>Cass sat up and didn’t fight the waist chain system quickly attached to her. But she peered out at the barely morning strengthened sun and frowned. Dawn was only an hour ago. “Are we going out?”</p><p>Her Director sighed. “No, I think you’re about to have a visitor.”</p><p>Her Director just finished rushing through an inspection of her entire person and her bed when there was an eager knock at the front door.</p>
<hr/><p>“Thank you for doing this for me, Captain,” Rapunzel whispered from underneath her loose helmet to the man standing beside her on the Director’s front porch. “I know you’re risking a lot.”</p><p>Eugene waved on the patrolling guards that’d called out to him. “It’s really the least I can do, after… well, everything.”</p><p>Rapunzel hurriedly stuffed the bits of hair back in that kept sliding out of her armor as the front door opened to let the man of the house step out.</p><p>Eugene greeted Cassandra's father and Rapunzel mashed against the slipping mustache and sideburn strips. She tried to peek into the house. She couldn’t wait to see Cass. Was she even up yet?</p><p>“No, nothing’s wrong, Director, we’re just—"</p><p>Rapunzel puffed out her chest and spoke over the Captain in her best manly voice, “We’re just here to check on you and see—” She peeked to see if the guards were within ear shot and pulled away her mustache before continuing in her normal voice, “How’re you two doing? Do you need anything? Please tell me she got my blanket?”  </p><p>The Director didn’t seem the least bit surprised at her reveal but he chuckled warmly and answered, “We’re getting on fine, Your Highness. Is there anything I can do for you?”</p><p>“I’d like to see her, if she’s up?”</p><p>Her request was met with only the distant chirping of rising birds.</p><p>“I haven’t come too early, have I?” Panic cinched in her chest. “Please tell me we didn’t already wake her up—”</p><p>“No, no, we were both up already.”</p><p>Relief melted the panic away like hot fudge on ice cream. “Oh good.” She looked between the Director and the door expectantly, rocking on her toes. The boots encasing them <em>far</em> too clammy and hard. Goodness, how did the soldiers manage to wear these for an hour much less all day? How did Cass ever manage? Even<em> prefer</em> them?</p><p>“I don’t think this is a good idea, Your Highness. Cassandra…” The Director peered back through the cracked door. “She’s still… adjusting.”</p><p>Rapunzel clutched her halberd closely. “Is she still… upset with me?”</p><p>“We haven’t discussed too much on those matters, but—”</p><p>Rapunzel settled the weapon against the wooden porch column and folded her hands before her in the gracious manner her tutors had instructed her in. “Then I’ll take my chances. I really need to see my best friend, Director.”</p><p>The Director glanced between her and Eugene… then he sighed and opened the door. “Please keep it brief.”</p>
<hr/><p>“What do <em>you</em> want?” Cassandra said from the wrought iron bed against the wall. Her lightening blue eyes piercing from a curtain of shadows.</p><p>Rapunzel hugged herself. “I just wanted to check on you. See if you’re doing okay?”</p><p>The devices on her best friend flickered in and out.</p><p>Rapunzel blew out a breath and smiled back at the Director as he gave her an encouraging nod from beside her in the doorway. She ventured a bit further into the drafty room.</p><p>The sturdy chains hadn’t needed to clatter as sharply as they did to draw her attention. She suppressed a gasp and took in the links that laced through the devices on Cass’ ankles and anchored her to the footboard. Took in the equally sturdy chains securing her cuffed wrists to her waist. The red flesh around them didn’t go unnoticed either. Weren’t Varian’s devices restraint enough?</p><p>“You don’t have to stay like—” Rapunzel chewed her bottom lip and gestured to the restraints. “—like this all the time, do you?”</p><p>“Only at night or when people who shouldn’t be here are visiting.”</p><p>Oh good. Rapunzel’s hands flew to her hips. “Well it’s not night now!” She called to the man in the doorless entrance, “Director, could you please come—?”</p><p>“Spare me your heroics, Rapunzel. He’s not going to unchain me until you leave.”</p><p>“Oh…” Rapunzel dropped her gaze to the bare floor boards. “Okay, well… I’ll just… go then."</p><p>Cassandra cocked an eyebrow. “This bothers you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” She laughed shakily, “Yeah it does. I <em>begged</em> for you <em>not</em> to be locked up.”</p><p>She jumped at Cassandra's snort. “This shouldn’t be a surprise then. Your best efforts always make a mess of things.”</p><p>“That’s not fair, Cass.”</p><p>Cassandra rolled her head against the wall and out into the light. Her gauntness and pallor were no better than they'd been in the dungeons—nor the tension lining her entire frame. “Would you like the laundry list of examples?”</p><p>When Rapunzel didn’t answer, Cass glanced at her father standing in the doorway pretending not to listen.</p><p>“Just say what you came to say.”</p><p>Rapunzel fiddled with a few strands of hair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go; how she’d imagined it anyway. She glanced at her best friend a few times before saying to the ground, “Back at the goodwill festival… back before…”</p><p>“Before you all ambushed me?” The devices on Cass flashed frantically. “What about it?”</p><p>“...What had you been trying to tell me?”</p><p>Cass’ laugh was a jab of a cold knife point. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”</p><p>Rapunzel approached the bed. Tears pricked her eyes at Cassandra’s stiffening. “Of course it matters. Whatever you have to say is important to me, Cass.”</p><p>Save for baring her teeth, Cassandra was so still she might not have been breathing. The devices on her were steady blue beacons for some reason. Rapunzel reached out. Was she afraid she was going to <em>hurt</em> her?</p><p>“Cassandra—” What she’d been about to say was lost as bright streams of red that ran from Cass’ forearm down to pool in her palm caught her eye. She tore out her handkerchief. “Cass, you’re bleeding!”</p><p>“Princess, please.” The Director ushered her away. “You have to stay back.”</p><p>“But she’s hurt!”</p><p>They both turned back to the figure on the bed. Despite the river of blood still spilling from the obsidian dark cut on her arm, Rapunzel found no pain in her friend’s eyes. Something like determination reigned instead. She couldn’t decipher it.</p><p>Though Rapunzel continued to plead with the Director to help Cass, no one moved. Rapunzel didn’t even understand how the cut had appeared. How she hadn’t even noticed… What kind of a friend was she to not sense her best friend’s pain?</p><p>This wasn’t going how she’d imagined at <em>all</em>.</p><p>At long last, Cass looked away. Her devices faded back to resting blue as she fell back into the shadows. “Are we done here? Because I’d like my breakfast before the sunsets.”</p>
<hr/><p>Hate was not a strong enough word for Cass’ feelings toward laundry. Loathe was not much better. Yet somehow, thanks to her Director… here she was. As if the day hadn’t started out bad enough.</p><p>“Sure, Your High and Mightiness,” Cass grumbled to herself and the washboard. “Give the girl with a crippled hand the job of <em>scouring.</em> No, it’s no trouble at all. What’s a little stabbing pain?”</p><p>This had to qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, Cass was sure of it.But even if it did, who cared? Too bad Rapunzel left already, she probably would’ve enjoyed seeing Cass reduced back to her former station. Her pain, her subjugation, humiliation… all brought more glory and attention for the princess. More <em>power</em> for the <em>princess.</em></p><p>“He must’ve done this on purpose…” Cass muttered. She did her best to keep the soaked shirt against the washboard—stain side up—with her unbendable hand while reaching behind her for the square of lye. “I bet <em>she</em> suggested it.”</p><p>The shirt started to slip back into the water as she continued to fish behind and beside her. <em>Where was that stupid bar?</em></p><p>A female voice said, “A little to the left.”</p><p>Cass readjusted and… yep, there it was. She snagged the shirt before it sunk and smeared a layer of the lye soap on the fabric. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Anytime.”</p><p>Cass froze. <em>Hold on…</em></p><p>She slowly looked over her shoulder at the foreign speaker. It was her. Or rather the version of herself that had been in her doorway the other night. What did she want? Cass peered back to where her father was whistling and making his bed… then back to her. “…Can I… help you?”</p><p>Her raven-haired twin ran a critical eye over Cass from head to toe. “Yeah no thanks, it’s bad enough one of us is a wreck. No sense in messing me up too.”</p><p>Cass returned the sizing gaze. Her favorite gold-trimmed grey tunic hung on the woman’s slim frame atop her red turtleneck. Her feet were clad in Cass’ old well-worn leather boots. The ensemble had her aching. None of those pieces had been in her pile of things upon moving in. The tops too long, too thick, and her boots too… everything she wasn’t allowed now. Cass tucked her feet further under her, suddenly feeling her bare feet were invoking the woman’s judgement. It wasn’t Cass’ fault the only shoes she had to her name now were a pair of plain ol’ flats that pinched her toes. The things were even more useless for fighting or outdoor terrain as her knee.</p><p>Upon further inspection, Cass was disappointed to find no blade or even an empty sheath strapped to her old self. But her favorite old black gloves remained. Another thing of which she was now deprived. Cass frowned as she noted the careful way the woman moved her sword-hand. She knew what was beneath that particular glove.</p><p>Cass turned back to her laundry. “Since we’re both one hand short, care to help?”</p><p>“What was that?” Her Director called, pausing to look at her from his partially made bed.</p><p>Cass ignored him.</p><p>“I’d say you’re doing fine enough on your own there.” The twin said. “Besides, why rush? It’s not like you’re pressed for time.”</p><p>Cass scowled. “I have things I’d rather be doing.”</p><p>"Like wrecking even more people’s lives? Or just ours and Dad’s?”</p><p>“Like anything other than cleaning.” Cass shoved a shirt through the water and didn’t care for the wave that splashed onto the floor on the other side. Next. “I’m not anyone’s servant. I’m tired of cleaning up after people.”</p><p>“That’s ironic, considering the rest of the kingdom is still cleaning up after <em>you.”</em></p><p>Cassandra stilled. “Am I supposed to feel guilty for that?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already.”</p><p>“Cass?”</p><p>Cassandra peeked up through her bangs to see her Director’s crisp brown slacks. He frowned down at her and glanced around the open space. “Were you talking to me?”</p><p>“No, I was talking to—” Cass snapped around to the irritation but found only the empty couch beside her.</p><p>Cass returned to her work with a laugh. <em>Good riddance.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thoughts?</p><p>I make no promises but I am trying to see if I can give y'all a double and upload chapter nine tomorrow night. Next chapter is called; "The Focus" </p><p>A special thank you to FrozenWings and Wxlipse for leaving wonderful reviews on each chapter so far. You guys keep me going! :D</p><p>See you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Focus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is over 7,000 words. Should this have been two chapters? Yes. Did I split it into two chapters? Nope. Most of this wasn't in the original draft, but the characters ran off and did whatever they wanted so this is the result.</p><p>This chapter could also be called "The Tension" cause poor Cass is on EDGE. If any of you are sensitive to panic attacks/ptsd flashbacks, you'll want to skip a scene in the middle.</p><p>Enough spoilers! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>Nineteen Years Earlier…</em>
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  <em>“Daddy, can I ride with you!”</em>
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  <em>The Captain dropped a leather bridle onto the pegged wall and turned at his daughter’s sweet voice. </em>
  
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  <em>Now a year into adapting to her new home, Cassandra was no longer jumping at her own shadow and did little more than glance at all the guards coming and going as she skipped through the Royal stables. Her long tresses swished behind her much like the surrounding horse tails. The skirt of her strawberry red dress bounced in a similar manner. And her smile beamed brighter than Equis’ lighthouse. </em>
  
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  <em>The Captain could hardly contain his smile; he liked to think he had something to do with that last bit. </em>
  
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  <em>His daughter landed in a crunching hop atop the hay covered floor right before him, her face nearly as red as her dress in the summer’s murderous heat. The weather didn’t dim the hope shining from her face one ounce though. But his words did. </em>
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  <em>“I’m sorry, Cass,” He said, crouching to her level. “I just got back.”</em>
  
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  <em>Cass wilted. “Oh.”</em>
  
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  <em>You would’ve thought he’d just told her he’d shot each and every pony in the land. He needed to fix this, but… “I have to get to a meeting with the King now.”</em>
  
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  <em>Strangely, Cass perked up at the information. Her eyes lit on the nickering horse he’d just settled in its stall, out the stable doors, and back to him. She started to bounce. “I know! We—we can go to the meeting on the horse! It’ll even be faster than walking there!”</em>
  
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  <em>Points for creativity, he’d give her that. The Captain rubbed a hand over his face. How could he put this nicely? “We can’t take a horse into the palace, sweetheart.”</em>
  
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  <em>“Why not? They live here like me and you do.”</em>
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  <em>“That’s true, but horses don’t know how to use a chamber pot.”</em>
  
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  <em>She crinkled her nose and gave a soft, “Ew” But she wasn’t deterred. “Well, we can just wait for them to go here and then we can—!”</em>
  
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  <em>“No. We’re not taking the horse, Cassandra.” The Captain stood and slipped his watch from his pants pocket. He had less than a few minutes; and the king was all about punctuality—as was he.</em>
  
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  <em>Cass fidgeted and said, “But—but I’ve really been practicing on my balance with Instructor Edgar and I really wanted to show you…” </em>
  
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  <em>He’d talked to her about the whining before, this was just unbecoming for a child of her status. He took a breath to scold her but a page boy cut in. </em>
  
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  <em>“Sir!” The curly haired boy, not that much taller or less sweaty than Cass, ran in and extended a silver scalloped tray with a single paper on it. “A letter from the King for you.”</em>
  
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  <em>The Captain was quick to read that the king had already been informed the prisoner they’d branded just that morning had not lived to board his prison barge and there was no need to further discuss the matter. He wasn’t sure if the king had simply left it out of the note that the traitor had been beheaded by a mob of his own neighbors or if he hadn’t heard that bit. Either way, he would be sure to still bring the matter up in their routine meeting that evening. But for now… The Captain dismissed the boy before turning back to pull the bridle off the wall. </em>
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  <em>“Turns out I have some time for a run into town.” He winked over his shoulder at his daughter. “Care to join me?”</em>
  
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  <em>“Yes, yes, yes!” Cass cheered while jumping in place. She followed close behind into the stall, a million questions, demands, and comments flying until they were both in the saddle.</em>
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  <em>He smiled down at his five-year-old who was practically vibrating with her excitement. The guards and stable hands gathered outside the stall to watch, broad and some teasing grins plastered on their faces. </em>
  
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  <em>“Impressive balance, Little one,” He said, “Are you comfy?”</em>
  
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  <em>“Yes!” </em>
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  <em>“Remember to hug the saddle tight with your knees now.” The instruction was hardly necessary as she was as tense head to toe as though hewn from his own golden armor. </em>
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  <em>“I’m ready, Daddy, let’s—Wait!” She let go of the saddle horn to try to worm her little fingers through his grip around her waist. “I want to hold the reins!”</em>
  
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  <em>In a few decades, he almost said. But… she needed to learn at some point. Keeping one arm firm around her, he conceded, “You can hold them with me.”</em>
  
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  <em>“Okay.” Cass tensed up again. “Let’s go—No, wait! Can I do the clicking?”</em>
  
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  <em>Chuckles filled the stable. He nodded. “At your command, milady.”</em>
  
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  <em>Cass’ delicate little clicking of the tongue and the waving of their adoring crowd sent them off. They didn’t accomplish a single errand on their trip, but Cass laughed more than she had the entire past year. So, who was to say it wasn’t a complete and total success? </em>
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<hr/><p>Present day…</p><p> </p><p>“So, I wrote to the Captain yesterday. Told him how good things have been going here since his visit last month, and well, he approved my request.”</p><p>Across the way and bouncing her untethered leg underneath the round wooden table atop a squeaky floor board, Cass didn’t look away from picking at her meal. “And that would be?”</p><p>“We’re going into town.”</p><p>A bite of meatloaf held onto the edge of her spoon for dear life. The floorboard ceased its squeaking. “When?”</p><p>“Right after I clean up here,” Her Director said with a smile. It didn’t leave his face as he sopped up the juices on his plate with a roll.</p><p>Cass dropped her gaze again to her barely touched meal. Her spoon followed with a clatter and she shoved her dish to clunk into his. The floorboard resumed its squeaking. “I’ll pass.”</p><p>Her Director fell back in his chair. The oddly lumped cushions puffing behind him. The cushions <em>she’d</em> left them. “I thought you were itching to get out there.”</p><p>“You thought wrong.”</p><p>They held each other’s gazes until he stood and took both of their plates to the wash basin on the kitchen’s island. Cassandra had to sink her teeth into her lip to keep from demanding he let her up. She watched the clock on their fireplace’s mantle instead.</p><p>The floorboard continued to do its best impression of an irate mouse.</p><p>It only took an average of four minutes and ten seconds for him to wash, dry, put away and lock up the dishes. Then he could unlock her.</p><p>Her other leg tried to join in with the bouncing but she quelled it. Not only did the rattling of that one’s chain drive her up the wall, but it still twinged with every movement.</p><p>Stupid thing. Couldn’t even bounce the same as the other. The Medic insisted when he’d been here last that her reflexes were improving in the deformed knee but she didn’t see it. He was probably lying to make her feel better; Or more likely to keep his reputation. Or he was lying because of <em>her.</em> She wouldn’t put it past Rapunzel to interfere with anything.</p><p>“We need bread and a new non-cracked water pitcher and a few other things that can’t wait.” Her Director said over his clattering and her squeaking. “I already got this approved and allotted for today. We’re going.”</p><p>“No, I said I’d pass.”</p><p>“And I said you’re not.” Her Director plopped a serving spoon into the basin causing a strand of water to leap and fall. He turned entirely toward her with folded arms. “What’s so wrong with town all of a sudden? I thought you’d be excited.”</p><p>Cass scoffed. Thinking was where he kept going wrong. He’d been writing the Captain too much.</p><p>“This is just a chance for you to parade me through the streets. With <em>this.”</em> She gripped her upper arm over the spot where her crime was laid bare. “I’m <em>not</em> going.”</p><p>He went back to the dishes. “I’m not going to argue with you, Cassandra. I don’t need your cooperation on this. I’m taking us into town.”</p><p>Cass drew on her power and flashed her eyes. “I’d like to see you try, <em>Director.”</em></p><p>The man just scowled. “I’m not the guards, Cass. That trick doesn’t work on me.”</p><p>Cass went back to watching the clock and raked her fingers through her nearing shoulder length hair. She changed the rhythm on her squeaking. This way reminded her of the Princess’ voice. She changed rhythms again.</p><p>“We’re going because we both need to get out of the house.”</p><p>Cass laughed. “You get out of the house all the time!”</p><p>“Once a month is hardly all the time.”</p><p>“You take the chamber pots out every morning, you go out to tend the garden more days than not, you visit the stable twice a week, you go—”</p><p>“For someone so upset with me, you sure pay quite a bit of attention to my schedule.”</p><p>“I’m subject to your schedule,” Cass snapped, “What do you expect.”</p><p>Two minutes to go—if he ever shut up. Sun, she hated mealtimes almost as much as nighttime and guard check-ins. Although night did have the perk of being free of his yammering, her new <em>friend</em> had taken to filling the gap.</p><p>Her Director crossed to the table and pulled his chair around to sit beside her. Cass’ heart leapt and she stopped the squeaking. Was he done already? One glance over his shoulder at the stacks of pots, plates, and gleaming silverware told her he was not letting her up yet. “What’re you doing?”</p><p>He reached for her good hand but she snatched it away. Was he going to add more chains? Had she broken a rule?</p><p>“Relax,” He said, hands lifted placatingly before folding them on the back of his chair. “I think this outing will be good for both of us.”</p><p>“Forcing me is a nice start.” She resumed her floorboard rhythm.</p><p>“We only need a couple of things. We’re not going to parade you. I’m not going to stop to talk to anyone. We’re going to take the most direct but empty routes possible. It’ll be just in and out, alright? Can you live with that?”</p><p>She slowed the bouncing and looked out the window to the overcast but still wide open and promising space. It might not be entirely detestable. A muscle jumped in Cass’ scarred arm. “Can I have a cloak?”</p><p>“You know that’s not allowed…” Her Director sighed. “But… I will shield you as best I can.”</p><p>Cass rolled her eyes. Sure he would.</p><p>He ventured, “Did I mention we’re going to ride to town?”</p><p>The squeaking stopped. The outside called once more. “I’m in.”</p>
<hr/><p>There were two stalls inside the manure scented, hay bale accented, stable. Two stalls—one horse.</p><p>Cass turned on her heel. “I’m out.”</p><p>Her Director caught her arm and turned her back around to the horse. The unfamiliar horse.</p><p>Both skin and hair nearly as midnight black as her cap-sleeved top and breeches, the stallion wasn’t any she recognized. But with it’s uneasy shifting at the sight of her chains she assumed it’d been a palace horse once upon a time. Or perhaps it was her magic source that caused its distress.</p><p>“C’mon.” Her grinning Director tugged her closer to their transport. “It’ll be like old times.”</p><p>To the relief of the backing horse, Cass dug her heels in the dirt. “I’m not riding with you.”</p><p>“Would you prefer to ride with one of them?” He nodded to her two guards trying to calm the horse.</p><p>She’d seen the pair’s own steeds waiting out by the corral on their way in. Both were saddled. She should’ve jumped on one of them.</p><p>Cassandra glared at her Director. “I’d prefer you all go jump in a lake.”</p><p>“Great idea, I’ll talk to the Captain about swimming for our next outing. But today…”</p><p>The stallion’s neigh was closer to a dragon screech as the Director led them in a wide circle to his side. Each coaxing of the guards only stirred him on. He reared with the next of their strokes. Through bits of dirt, his shoed hooves glinted as silver as the accents on his saddle and Cass’ binds. Her Director pulled her back as the horses’ legs fell like sledgehammers.</p><p>“Easy, Silas. We’re not going to hurt you, boy,” Her Director said and inched them forward.</p><p>Oddly enough, when Cass was close enough to brush her fingers against the leather saddle, the stallion settled. Each compartment bag on that side of the mud-colored saddle appeared slack, empty; except one. Before Cass could palm it, a soft snort of warm breath puffed across her cheek. She turned and found herself nose to nose with the broad horse.</p><p>“There ya go.” Her Director stroked his horses’ silky mane and smiled at the stallion. “Cass, meet Silas. Silas, meet Cass.”</p><p>Her regulation wrist-to-waist restrains prevented her from petting the horse still puffing in her face so she settled for whispering, “Hi, Silas.”</p><p>Silas nickered deep in his throat, nudged her chest, and rested his head on her shoulder. The tickling breaths and lip-nibble on her ear almost drew a laugh. But she didn’t allow it. She wasn’t sure she even remembered how a real one worked. Cass did allow herself to lean into the craned embrace. It wasn’t clear whose breaths were steadying who.</p><p>“I think he likes you.” Her Director said before noticing another ear nibble and scolding, “Alright, that’s enough of that now, boy. Stop flirting with my daughter.”</p><p>The horse pulled away leaving Cass feeling different than she had in the past year; Feeling lighter.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re friends now, but we have an errand to run. Times tickin’.”</p><p>The light feeling plummeted back to the stench of reality.</p><p>Cass stared over the saddle as her Director’s hands appeared at her waist. He said, “You’re up first.”</p><p>Mounting with—for all intents and purposes—only half a functioning body, was tricky. But between her Director and the guard <em>not</em> holding onto Silas’ reins, she managed.</p><p>"Feet out of the stirrups," Her Director said.

For the blink of time before he was pulling himself up behind her, Cass weighed what chances she had. She only needed Silas to plow through the guard and out the doors into the free world beyond. Dodging the arrows they’d send her way would also be helpful. But her Director was settled in the snug saddle before a sound could leave her lips.</p><p>Cass sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth as he hooked a firm grip into the back of her waist chain. She couldn’t fall off if she tried. Scratch off her next plan.</p><p>He accepted the reins from the guard as they took their leave for their own horses. “Alright, all set?”</p><p>“No.” She had no weapon, no cloak, little freedom of movement, and she wanted nothing less than to go be amongst the Princess’ blind idol worshipers. But who cared what she wanted.</p><p>For reasons she couldn’t comprehend, there was a smile in his tone as he asked, “Do you want to do the clicking?”</p><p>“Sure,” Cass said with a smile of her own and a shift of her bound wrists. “Give me the keys.”</p><p>He urged Silas toward the doors and grumbled, “Not that kind of clicking.”</p><p>The guards zipped into place like railings on either side as they trotted out into the grey day.</p><p>A flock of crows squawked and scattered in a dark cloud as they rode through to the edge of the tree line. The edge. They were at the edge of her prison yard. Cass would finally get to see what was beyond that curve.</p><p>Once the last of the birds cleared, she saw it: Wide open road.</p><p>To the east was the bridge splitting the gleaming sea and crowned by the capital city. To the west… Old Corona.</p><p>Her magic pulsed at the sight of the apple tree lined trail, at the rolling fields beyond. It begged her to follow.</p><p>They turned in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Same rules apply as always, Cass,” Her Director said over the clopping hooves, “Distance is the only change as there’s no specific boundary line. We’ll be giving the castle a wide-berth though and you are to come no closer than three meters to a citizen and go no further than one from us, is that clear?”</p><p>“No threat of shooting me this time?” Cass barely caught her yelp as the Director pinched her back.</p><p>“No, not from us. But every guard in town is aware we’re coming today and the three of us will be staying right with you to ensure things go smoothly.”</p><p>This was going to be as smooth as cactus, she was sure of it. But as they crossed into town, the Director’s subtle readjustment of his grip on the reigns—of his arm over her brand—had her reconsidering. Marginally. She was still too recognizable. Not that that was entirely a bad thing.</p><p>True to his word, they did stay to empty avenues. And what stragglers they came across didn’t spare them a glance. Most of them. The ones that did, did double takes. Then the whispers began.</p><p>Curses were spit upon the ground as they passed. Parents rushed their young ones indoors. Scattered glares, sneers, and wide-eyed stares grew along with the mutterings. But Cass fixed her gaze above their heads; A smirk playing on her lips.</p><p>More crows lined the streets than human spectators. Despite the mid-afternoon hour, their perches on shingled rooftops scarcely added to the overhanging darkness of the sky beyond. A growl of thunder sounded in the distance and Cass thought of the hooded cloaks around her three guards. “If I get wet,” She told her Director, “You can have laundry duty back.”</p><p>Their next turn was vacant of anyone and anything save for a mushroom-shaped news tower covered with all of the kingdom’s current lost and wanted posters. All of hers had been removed. A shame really; it’d been nice to be wanted.</p><p>As they neared the next bend, the bustling of carts being wheeled this way and that, shopkeepers calling out offers and greetings, and the waftings of baked bread and sweets all swept over Cass. It’d been so long since she’d been in the hub of daily life—of normal life—that she’d forgotten the buzz of it.</p><p>She’d also forgotten how many depictions there were of Rapunzel. Along every building. Not just art works <em>by</em> the Princess, but <em>of</em> her. From the mosaic of her as the haloed baby, to paintings and stained-glass windows of her with her family, Fitzherbert, and numerous children and other citizens. Always smiling, always outlined in jewels or golden bursts. If Cassandra had been a visitor seeing these for the first time, she would’ve thought Rapunzel to be the people’s Deity rather than their Princess.</p><p>But not all the portraits were so glorious. There were some, shielded by crates or fly swarmed fish stands, where Rapunzel’s hands were halfway missing or she was hugging nothing. “Did she paint me out of existence before or after my trial?”</p><p>Her Director’s grip tightened on her chain but it was the guard beside her that answered, “After. But the Princess didn’t do it. The King gave us the order.”</p><p>Her Director ushered Silas on before she could comment. What even was the point of their secrecy if she’d been so thoroughly wiped from history? Had those few onlookers been irked just because it was obvious she was a prisoner rather than that they remembered who she was or what she’d done?</p><p>Out of sight, out of mind after all. And it’d never been hard for Corona to overlook her even when she’d lived only to protect them.</p><p>But maybe she was wrong. Because just as they turned the corner to their first stop in the market, a gasp rang out.</p><p>A thrill shot through Cass as she looked down at the gasper. But the beaver-toothed cobbler’s wife was facing the opposite direction. The bun atop her head wobbled as she cried, “Everyone, look! It’s the Princess!”</p><p>“Princess Rapunzel!”</p><p>“Wave kids! That’s our future Queen!”</p><p>The cheers rose to ear-splitting volume. People gushed out of the shops like flood waters from a dam. Flowers and ribbons flew through the air. But her attention narrowed to the blushing and waving blonde that came into view.</p><p>Cass’ blood trickled from her arm onto the saddle. The people’s chants and praises melded into a steady ringing in her ears. Why was <em>she</em> here?</p><p>Her Director sped them back around the corner from the current. He threw his hold around to the front of her waist and pressed her wound into her shirt, hiding it. He whistled to a guard standing at the rear of the crowd.</p><p>One of her guards delegated their errands and told him to inform the Captain of the change of plans.</p><p>“Calm down,” Her Director bit out under his breath. His grip on her arm as strong as the lightning fighting within. It chanted the name right along with the crowd. <em>Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel…</em></p><p>It hadn’t faded when Her Director turned Silas back toward her prison and muttered, “We’ll try again next week.”</p>
<hr/><p>They didn’t go back the next week because it was storming. It had been for the past seven days straight. But that didn’t hamper the guard checks. Not one bit.</p><p>Regardless of the time of day or activity they’d interrupted, their entry bark of “Inspection!” would be met with all the attention Cass would give a slug miles away.</p><p>Their routine order for her to get on her knees, hands above her head, was most often met with her rude finger—when she even cared to respond that much. It was evident which guards appreciated the gesture most by how hard they’d proceed to slam her against the wall. Cass was pretty sure every wall in the house was taking on the indent of her profile.</p><p>Once they’d declared her helpless again and her father had pushed everyone back out into the rain, Cass resumed the important activity they’d interrupted: Pacing. Or that’s what she supposed it looked like. In actuality, she was trying to get away from her other daily visitor.</p><p>“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Cass asked, twisting the devices on her raw wrists and neck. The padding in them was a joke. All it did was make them even more impossible to slide off.</p><p>The twin leaned against the doorway and smiled at Cass as she passed back by into her room. “Nothing more fun anyway.”</p><p>Blood pouted to the surface of her pale skin as her clawing left a tiny scrape. She glared at the things, then at her <em>friend.</em> “If you’re enjoying this so much, why not just take my place?”</p><p>“Oh no thanks,” Her twin said, checking her nails. “I’m enjoying <em>not</em> being a low-life criminal even more. Still being in good standing with all my friends is great too; Raps especially.”</p><p>Her struggles were having no effect whatsoever. The devices still flashed and functioned exactly the same as her power flared. She breathed through the internal jabbing, “You can keep her.”</p><p>The twin quirked her head. “You know there’s an easy way to get those off.”</p><p>Cass snapped her gaze up. “How?”</p><p>“Give them the stone.”</p><p>Her Director and all the winking candles filling the house were about to witness a murder. “Very. Funny.”</p><p>Her twin had the audacity to smile. The raven followed after Cass as she paced a circle in her room and said, “You should at least think about it, sometime.”</p><p>“I think it’s in your best interest to shut up now.”</p><p>“You should really think about mending things with Raps too.”</p><p>A bolt of lightning following a clap of thunder illuminated a tiny puddle across her room. Cass didn’t look up to see the source but her muscles were already knotting. She kicked a shirt from her clothes pile over to absorb the spot and fled the room. She’d let her Director find the leak on his own.</p><p>She took to pacing around the dining table. Her magic chanting with each step, <em>Her father…</em> With each rain drop, <em>Rapunzel…</em> <em>Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel…</em></p><p>Her twin’s concerned face filled her vision and she walked backwards with her around the green rug. “Remind me what it is you even have against her?”</p><p>Rapunzel will always have power, will only increase in power as time goes on. She will always have a voice that will only get louder, stronger… Next to Rapunzel, Cass’ voice will always be silenced… Rapunzel gets everything… Rapunzel is adored by everyone... Rapunzel could do no wrong... Rapunzel… <em>Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel…</em></p><p>The twin stopped her by the shoulders. “Cass?”</p><p>Next to Rapunzel, she would always be nothing. This would never change, there was nothing else to think about.</p><p>Cass shut her eyes. “Leave me alone.”</p><p>Her twin did no such thing but her hands did leave her shoulders—only to be replaced by her Directors’ heavier ones.</p><p>He said, “Can’t do that, it’s dinnertime! Tonight’s beef and butternut squash.”</p><p>Cass dropped into her seat. The chain from the floor’s bolt was locked to an ankle cuff. And she took to her bouncing her leg and watching the clock as well as she could in the candlelight. Her foot found that same squeaky floorboard. “Butternut?”</p><p>“That’s what I said.” Her Director drowned out the thunder with the dishes’ banging.</p><p>Her twin lifted herself onto the edge of the table. “Ugh, why’d he get that? He’s hated butternut longer than we have. <em>Rapunzel’s</em> not even that fond of it.”</p><p>Cass shrugged. An average of fifty-two minutes to go til she could get up.</p><p>“We would’ve been having beef and <em>carrots</em> but this is what happens when we have to give the list through a long line of people instead of getting the items ourselves.”</p><p>Lightning turned the rain outside into crystal blades. Fifty-one and a half. “That’s fine.”</p><p>“Of course, if the instance with Princess Rapunzel hadn’t cut our outing short last week—” Her Director said, cubing the meat with a butcher’s knife, “—we could’ve gotten the carrots—”</p><p>“Right, because everything always comes second to <em>her.</em> You’ll drop anyone and anything for <em>her.”</em></p><p>The floorboard and the knife chopping against the wooden countertop was the only sound. And the rain. <em>Rapunzel. Rapunzel. Rapunzel. Rapunzel.</em></p><p>Fifty minutes.</p><p>Her twin stilled Cass’ bouncing knee with her boot-clad toes. “Rapunzel isn’t the enemy.”</p><p>
  <em>Drip. Drip. Drip. Rapunzel. Rapunzel. Rapunzel… </em>
</p><p>“Cassandra, we really should address this problem you’ve got with Princess Rapunzel—”</p><p>
  <em>Drip.</em>
</p><p>Cass slammed her hands on the table. “If that name comes out of anyone’s mouth again, so <em>help me—!”</em></p><p>
  <em>Drip.</em>
</p><p>“You’ll do what?” Her Director asked in the sudden silence. Even the storm outside was holding its raging breath. Cass was having a hard time finding her own.</p><p>
  <em>Drip drip.</em>
  
</p><p>Her twin stood and took a breath to speak but Cass cut her off, shaking, shouting, “You stay out of this!”</p><p>
  <em>Drip.</em>
</p><p>Her dad cast glances around the entire space and crossed the distance to kneel beside her. “Cass, honey, you need to calm down.”</p><p><em>Drip drip. </em>It was dark. She was wet. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t telling them anything. They couldn’t have the stone. It’s hers. Only hers.</p><p>
  <em>Drip.</em>
</p><p>“Listen to him,” The twin said, “You’re picking battles with innocent people.”</p><p>
  <em>Drip. Rapunzel… Her Father… The King… The Captain… Drip. They can’t have it.</em>
</p><p>“Cassandra. Cassandra, look at me.” The hold on her was almost a hug. A tight, tight hug. It accentuated the pins pricking all over. Kept her stuck on the wooden table at her back.</p><p>
  <em>Drip drip.</em>
</p><p>Cass’s shaking, bound, limbs found some way to shove him back. Her teeth were chattering as she seethed, “Get<em> off </em>of me!”</p><p>
  <em>Drip drip.</em>
</p><p>“It’s just me, Cass, you’re safe. But you need to breathe.” Her dad’s hands were warm as they rested on her knees, they didn’t hurt. They were safe. “Should I send for the Medic?”</p><p>She sucked down as much air as she could get. Her body rocked with the attempts. But she must’ve been doing something right.</p><p>“There ya go,” Her dad said and started stroking his thumb over her hand. “Just keep that up, Cass. Just keep breathing. You’re alright.”</p><p>The pins were receding. She said on the next one, “I’m—I’m fine.”</p><p>“Yes, you are. Everything’s fine.”</p><p>Cass pulled her hand from his grasp. She was fine. She didn’t need his help, his pity. She looked around to find the same scene of raw beef and uncut squash remained in the kitchen but her twin as well as the storm were gone. What she’d last said lingered. <em>You’re picking battles with innocent people.</em></p><p>“Cass, are you okay?”</p><p>She sucked down another breath and met her Director’s searching eyes. “I’m only in this situation because of you two. Everything that happened in the dungeons and since is thanks to <em>you.”</em></p><p>Her Director’s eyes hardened. “I’m not the one that broke the law.”</p><p>Cass’ harsh breathing was the only thing filling the air for several moments ‘til she said, “But I’m not the only traitor in this house.”</p>
<hr/><p>Three days later, the sun came out. And when it stayed the day after that, they returned to town.</p><p>Ten minutes into the outing and they’d made it so far as to dismount the horses.</p><p>What little slack there was in Cass’ chains echoed through the empty streets as she walked. Rapunzel didn’t steal her spotlight that time.</p><p>Like cockroaches, shopkeepers and customers alike abandoned everything and took off to dark corners. Shutters, doors, and stands all snapped closed. Children left their large blue ball to roll to its own fate alone.</p><p>If their terror wasn’t prolonging the trip, Cass would’ve basked in it. She did still smile. It seemed they hadn’t forgotten about her.</p><p>Of course, drawing on her magic to flash her eyes—and there by her five-piece set of MRDs—at the villagers stupid enough to linger, helped the warm welcome along.</p><p>“Cassandra, stop that,” Her Director said with a scowl. “You’re gonna give them heart attacks.”</p><p>Cass felt little distress at the notion. She could tell by the fire in the eyes of those bold enough to watch her from their flower framed windows that they wished her a much harsher end. But she did relent. Little eyes were watching.</p><p>The closest set buzzed right by her ear while her Director was sweet talking a shopkeeper through a peeped door.</p><p>“I’m an officer of the King, you cannot bar me access to food!”</p><p>“I’m not stopping you—just <em>her! </em>She has to stay outside.”</p><p>It’d been about the same at every shop. But this one had a lively Hornets’ nest to keep them out<em>. </em>Her jumpy guard tightened his hold when she tried to step back from the insect. Evasion wasn’t an option so she tried diversion. She ticked her head toward the guard<em>. Go left. You don’t want me. Go to this guy he’s been outside around flowers way more than me. Go left.</em></p><p>The bee didn’t get the message. Her bright blue hair and plum sleeveless top were much too flower-like than the guard’s grey and green offerings.</p><p>At least the bug’s presence kept the other owner of little eyes back. But it didn’t stop his words from stinging.</p><p>“Mommy, what’s that on that lady’s arm?”</p><p>“Oh! Stay close to me,” The mother with overly large spectacles gasped and grabbed her son’s hand as they took off. “It’s a sign from the King that she’s a very bad person.”</p><p>Cass watched the bee fly to the cobblestone ground but didn’t follow his flight back up. The words didn’t bother her. Really, they didn’t.</p><p>They worked out an arrangement for her Director to tell the storeowners what things he needed and did the transactions at the doors or through trembling shutters.</p><p>They’d only been out half an hour when they returned to their horses.</p><p>If they hadn’t had to fix the saddlebag meant for their purchases that someone had slashed through, maybe their horses’ hooves on the stones would’ve spared Cass from the final whispers.</p><p>“I can’t believe the princess didn’t just end her when she had the chance. What a wasted life.”</p><p>“Do you think the princess will take her back as a maid?”</p><p>“Can you even pay traitors?”</p><p>“The princess doesn’t need to pay for that one’s labor. She owes it to her.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, did you see that hand? She’d never earn her keep. More worthless than ever.”</p><p>Those words didn’t bother her either. Really. They didn’t. Not one bit.</p><p>The day only got better from there.</p><p>In the main room an hour before dinner, all was still. Only the occasional coo of a dove outside or the turn of a page punctuated the air.</p><p>Cass and her Director were both absorbed in their respective books. But the chaise’s buttery cushions were fighting to absorb Cass more. She might’ve even given into them if there hadn’t been a sharp knock at the door that was soon followed by a bellow of, “Inspection!”</p><p>She still didn’t move as they all filed in, but the group did get some of her attention. Both the Captain and the Lieutenant had come.</p><p>The dance still commenced the same way. Everyone stood still for three seconds waiting for her to comply. And Cass went on to the next page in her book. But this time once it hit the point where they’d jump her, only one guard moved to murmur in the Captain’s ear.</p><p>“Yes, I’ve heard the reports,” The Captain murmured back. With a stiff white glove, the brunet scratched his chiseled nose and said, “You know, you’re expected to be on your knees at this point, Cass… Tell me you are aware of that, right?”</p><p>Cass hummed and pretended to read the next line.</p><p>“Alright, we’ll work on that,” The Captain said with a strained laugh. He nodded to his men, “Proceed.”</p><p>Maynard was the one to yank her up. He did have a particular finesse to his slamming technique. Hardly any wind was ever left in her. After plopping her hands atop her head, he was also the one to continue onto patting her down.</p><p>Cass mashed her elbows and forehead harder against the wall as the calloused hands searched.</p><p>She tuned into the sounds of the other guards rummaging through the house and the routine questions a guard—well this time the high and horrible Captain himself—asked her Director.</p><p>It wasn’t routine for her examiner to ask her questions of his own.</p><p>Hands exploring her waist band and pants pockets, Maynard’s classic cabbage breath brushed against her cheek as he asked, “Have you been a good dog or have you earned your muzzle again?”</p><p>The words did not bother her. Really. They didn’t. Not. One. Bit.</p><p>So, it was a surprise to everyone when the Adam’s apple of Maynard’s neck just so happened to be at the perfect angle for her elbow to find. And a double surprise when her fist led her to spin off the wall and break the Lieutenant’s nose.</p><p>Maynard was out cold well before he hit the wood planks.</p><p>Three swords were aimed at her before that as well. An army of voices followed, shouting, “Down on the ground!”</p><p>She didn’t even have time to follow the order on her own. Three more guards were on her, wrenching her arms behind her. And with a kick into the back of her bad knee, they flattened her to the floor.</p><p>The world above her was a flurry of jangling shackles, slamming doors, running footsteps, and overlapping cries.</p><p>“By the sun! What happened?”</p><p>“The prisoner assaulted the Lieutenant! She was attempting escape!”</p><p>“No, Captain! I heard the Lieutenant—”</p><p>“Sir, do we send for the transport?”</p><p>The world on her level was much simpler. Pain stabbing up her leg, splinters she didn’t think existed on the smooth floor puncturing her numbing cheek, a blue pants-clad knee that wasn’t the one crushing her shoulder, the end of a glinting broadsword just over her nose. The web of chains she’d heard were being draped and snapped onto her. Barks of, “Stay down! Don’t move!” continued while they kept her pinned.</p><p>It wasn’t until a hand rushed through her line of sight wielding a little black box that she struggled. “I wasn’t trying to—!”</p><p>A jab of a cool smooth corner into her neck. Then darkness.</p>
<hr/><p>The mattress of the dungeon’s cot was comfier than Cass had remembered. The air had improved too. Rot and urine were now a breeze of fresh linen and… pear?</p><p>A twitch of her arms at her sides told her chains were still in play and unyielding as ever. It was the same with her legs.</p><p>Bold beams from her two windows brought her grimacing back into the visual world. That purple sealed decree was the next thing she saw. She re-shut her eyes with a groan. She wasn’t in the dungeons. It was worse.</p><p>“You need to thank your lucky stars that private Reynolds was passing by at the exact moment Maynard said that to you.”</p><p>Cassandra rolled her head along her feathered pillow to squint at her Director.</p><p>He returned the squint. The broom handle-like dining chair creaked as he leaned back. Or that was his bones, who knew. “You also need to be grateful to the Captain. He’s given you <em>immense</em> grace.”</p><p>A chain belt hugged her hips and ran through her cuffs down either side of her bed to—she assumed—the underside. Another similar band ran through her ankle cuffs. A wide leather belt rested unbuckled beside either side of her shoulders, waiting. Cass fought the anchor sinking in her stomach. “How so?”</p><p>“You attacked an officer of the Royal Guard, Cassandra,” Her Director said, “That would warrant a severe punishment even if you weren't in this situation.”</p><p>“Don’t expect me to apologize for it. I’d do it again. He deserved it.”</p><p>“You’re <em>not</em> going to be doing that again. Not on my watch. You can’t hit an officer or anyone, period!”</p><p>She scoffed. “Of course, you’d take his side.”</p><p>“I’m not. I’m on yours.”</p><p>Cass fisted her good hand and relished the ache in her split knuckles. She even relished the ghost of a months old ache on the back of her head. “You’re on no one’s side but your own. Or maybe <em>hers.”</em></p><p>“That’s not true. I just spent hours groveling for mercy for you—”</p><p>“For <em>her</em> sake—”</p><p>“I don’t care about Rapunzel, Cassandra,” He snapped, the stripped light through the window bars highlighting his white-knuckled grip on his biceps. “She’s not my daughter. And this doesn’t even concern her.”</p><p>Cass’s gaze fell back to her binds and she ran her fingers along the biting links.</p><p>“You broke the law and you’ve broken the rules of your sentence—in front of witnesses this time—and it doesn’t matter if the Lieutenant deserved it or not.”</p><p>A shadow of a guard passed along the wall. Her Director let out a deep sigh, the kind that usually went along with a scrubbing over his face and moustache that left him looking more tired than before.</p><p>“I’m not your enemy, Cass. I’m trying to take care of you—"</p><p>“By keeping me locked up?”</p><p>“By keeping you alive.” He pointed to the decree on the wall. “By covering for you for each of those rules you’ve spit on. You could’ve been on your way to execution right now, but you’re not. And that’s not because you’re the Princess’ friend or to save my reputation or any other <em>hogwash.</em> It’s because I fought for you. It’s because you and your wellbeing, Cass, have always been and will always <em>be</em> my focus.”</p><p>Right. The month she spent screaming her head off in the Royal interrogation cell after his intervention really showed that.</p><p>“I’m not in here to argue with you.” The chair creaked again and his shadow fell over her as he stood. “I’m here to inform you that you’re going to stay here in your room under heavy restraint for the next few weeks and your outdoor privileges have been revoked until further notice. That’s the Captain’s concession in exchange for sparing your life.”</p><p>Cass swallowed around the hard lump in her throat.</p><p>“Also, you may be happy to hear, that Lieutenant Maynard will not be assigned to any more of your inspections. The Captain had actually been here yesterday to watch him, not you—Another thing you should be grateful for.”</p><p>Cass didn’t lift her flat gaze or tone. “I’m bursting with gratefulness.”</p><p>There was a delicate rustling and then the head of her mattress was being propped up. Her Director freed one of her hands and placed a white cheese cloth on her lap. It fell open to reveal dripping honey-glazed pears and a small wedge of cheese with some of the honey’s sticky residue clinging to it.</p><p>She asked, “Is this supposed to be a peace offering?”</p><p>“No, it’s dinner. You haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours.”</p><p>Her growling stomach confirmed that fact. But she didn’t touch it. The anchor inside was still in the way.</p><p>“This won’t last forever.” Her Director gave a sad smile and squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to eat in peace. But as your Director, I have to impress that there will <em>not</em> be a repeat of yesterday’s incident, is that understood?”</p><p>Cass saluted.</p><p>“Good. I’ll hold you to it. Now that’s on the record. But off the record, as your dad, all I can say is—” Another guard passed the windows, so he leaned down to whisper, <em>“Nice</em> hook, honey.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry I couldn't do the double upload last week guys, as I said, the characters ran away with me and demanded there was more to be in this chapter. There will be double update weekends in the future though!</p><p>P.S. Any of you wondering about what keeps happening with Cass' arm bleeding will find out in chapter 11. </p><p>See y'all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Riot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is a line I wrote in here that I have this haunting feeling is from some book I read somewhere but I can't remember where it is so I give a general disclaimer to say if it's from someone's book or story it's their rights cause they said it first, all credit to them. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cassandra never knew chalk could taunt.</p><p>Day by day, week by week, it would lick the wall. Run over bump and crevice alike, screeching her vulnerabilities. Even when it shriveled to only a stump, it hadn’t had its last laugh. It came back to life in a new piece the next day. Revenge radiating from its vigorous new body.</p><p>Even when it tumbled from her Director’s grasp and settled on the edge of her bedframe, it continued its taunts. Side to side it rolled atop the frame. Inches to the left, inches to the right. Inches that might as well have been a field compared to her range of motion.</p><p>Each piece snickered at her with every tally line drawn; Reminding her of what she’d lost and continued to lose. Each stick shushed the words, the demands, threats, and protests, waiting to pounce from the tip of her tongue. <em>You’re never leaving,</em> the white fiend would whisper, <em>Give up.</em></p><p>The binds on her weren’t any better. Each twitch sent them into jingling giggles and denials. <em>You’re never leaving,</em> they chimed, <em>Give in.</em></p><p>But she didn’t accept their taunts. She fought. Day and night. In or out of the presence of her Director and the peeping vultures. Cass fought the confines. Sweat and blood dampened her sheets on a regular basis. She arched, twisted, yanked, and shoved against the cuffs and belts. She tried her best to scoot to the swooping iron sideboard of her bedframe in order to slam her cuffs against it but the belts were anchored too well. When all of that failed, she tried her magic. She commanded the stone to help, to free her. But that failed too.</p><p>And large yellow eyes just watched her struggle. Her owl and the single secret it bore lay useless beside her clothing pile on the other side of the room. It watched her cry when others weren’t around. At times, if she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought it taunted her too. She could’ve sworn on one occasion that it’d hooted at her for an hour straight.</p><p>Sometimes those yellow eyes were joined by a pair of narrowed grey eyes. Her twin was sympathetic—some of the time. Sometimes she was on her enemy’s side. But always she was no help. Even when Cass humbled herself to plead for her to unlock her or just for her owl, the twin denied her. And her taunts were worse. The woman that bore her face but not her goals would mock her by standing, even raking her fingers through her black hair, and then pressure, “Give up the stone.” Sometimes she’d say it with a whip or a torch in her hands. Cass’ Director rushing in at her screams was the only thing that banished the threats; Temporarily, at least.</p><p>It took her far too long to calm down afterward. But once her bedroom was her bedroom again and not the pit of her windowless cell, she’d be confronted with the concern in her Director’s eyes. She could feel it still even once she’d jerked her gaze back to the tally striped wall. Whatever words of apology or comfort he tried to give then, she shut out. They were all empty and meaningless because he wouldn’t let her up.</p><p>Even when she screamed, even when her eyes, nose, and cheeks were still wet and aching when he’d check on her in the morning, he wouldn’t let her up. When blood seeped from her wrists and ankles, he only got a cloth and ointment and cleaned her up. This to save his precious sheets no doubt.</p><p>Only a few days into her punishment, bathroom breaks became Cass’ favorite part of living. Her whole being sighed when <em>finally</em> she could get off that cursed bed and stand. But she still couldn’t move freely. Her Director held onto her until she was sitting, and once sitting, her chains remained. Though leashed with a few feet of leeway, her bed still wouldn’t let her go. <em>He </em>wouldn’t let her go.</p><p>It was enough to make her sick on more than one occasion.</p><p>But it was once the fourth week neared that Cass’ screams, struggles, and tears stopped. It was like she’d been switched off by that black box again. A sound wouldn’t leave her. She wouldn’t eat. She only responded at barest functioning level to the outside world when nature called. But other than those few minutes, for the next five chalk lines… she didn’t move. She was the perfect prisoner. Her twin’s passing comment that maybe Cass would get time off for her good behavior was a joke that neither smiled at.</p><p>She was silent. Still. Compliant. But all the while, her power raged. It pulsed. <em>Rapunzel. </em>It groaned.<em>  Her father. </em>It pushed.<em> The Captain. </em>She almost joined in at a whisper. She almost smiled. Its suppressed war cries were reminders. What stood in her way, what she needed… <em>Rapunzel. Her father. The Captain. Rapunzel. Rapunzel… Rapunzel… </em></p><p>Though she hadn’t struggled, her sheets were damp beneath her prone body when her Director strode in and said over the chants, “I’ve got good news!”</p><p>The chalk snickered again as it marked another tally on the wall. Cass didn’t bother to count how many that’d made. Nature was calling.</p><p>She kept the speck that was either a bug or a chip in the ceiling in her view and her body pliant as her Director set to switching out her restraints. The locks at her wrists would come first. They’d be shackled together and hooked to a leash. The belt crushing her shoulders would come undone next. Then her waist and on down to leashing her feet. It was the same dance. Same steps. She didn’t fight anymore.</p><p>When she used to have that strength—and after she’d finish her business with the pot—her Director had to wrestle her back onto the bed. But that didn’t last through the first week. After only a second scratch and curse filled wrestling match, her Director stormed from her room and barricaded himself in his for a long time. At the end of the next bathroom break, he’d handed the task of resituating her off to a guard. She’d spewed curses at both her Director <em>and</em> the guard that time. But that was long passed. Now, she remained calm. Blank. Until he changed the steps.</p><p>The wide leather belt was tugged off first.</p><p>Cass met the crinkled eyes above her. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“As I said, I’ve got good news,” Her Director said, his smile brighter than the sunbeam ricocheting in off a passing guard’s crossbow. “Today’s release day.”</p><p>Cass fought the flutter of her heart in her throat. “You’re letting me go?”</p><p>“I’m letting you <em>up. </em>I talked the Captain into ending the punishment a day early.”</p><p>A switch was flipped back on inside Cass. Her power quieted. The remaining binds couldn’t come off fast enough.</p>
<hr/><p>Snip. Snip… Snip.</p><p>Sniff.</p><p>Snnippp. Snip. Snniipppp…</p><p>Snip.</p><p>“I think that should about do it,” Her Director turned barber said, brushing off several hairs from the shoulders of her navy tank. “Tell me what you think.”</p><p>A tarnished brass hand mirror was lowered over her shoulder. The forest green of his crisp sleeve was striped with strays of her blue split ends. Cass looked in the mirror at her hair that was back to it’s old swooping self. Nice and light again. She avoided staring at the purple shadows under her eyes or the scar on her arm as he pulled the mirror back. “Decent.” She shifted in her chains. “Can I get up now?”</p><p>“Almost,” He said, “Let me get the brush and then it’ll be about time to tuck you in.”</p><p>Cass clenched her jaw. “I swear if you read me another story…”</p><p>Boots clomped away to his room and he said, “Maybe I’ll let you pick which one tonight since you’re so eager. And to celebrate!”</p><p>Less than a day had passed since Cass’ increased confinement ended and that actually did feel like something to celebrate. But with the sun casting its final smoldering orange rays through her bedroom and the main room windows, she knew her minutes were numbered before she had to get right back to being secured to her bed. The thought made her head throb. She’d only accepted her current wrist-to-waist chain system—plus a chain belting her to the dining chair that <em>hadn’t</em> been previously agreed upon—at the promise of a haircut. And only at the promise that it would take him twenty minutes—<em>tops.</em></p><p>He was on nineteen. And twenty-eight seconds. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one…</p><p>She’d hoped to have at least a few more minutes of freedom before dusk fell. But the sun continued to cast her windows, the recently completed tree-bark colored fence, and land beyond in an even bolder glow. Its dying light flickered across the tree line’s green leaves.</p><p>Despite the lack of wind out, the light waved its farewell. It was rather like a dance. It swayed. Writhed. Almost like it was…</p><p>Cass strained against her binds to stare closer at the light.</p><p>A crackling of wood. And then the smell of smoke reached her.</p><p>She called, “Director… Are the guards making a fire?”</p><p>With how even the beetles that buzzed past her windows today dripped with sweat, she couldn’t fathom why they’d have need of one. By how her Director raced from his room, brows furrowed, she could tell he was thinking the same.</p><p>And come to think of it… “I haven’t seen either of the guards pass since I sat down.”</p><p>Her Director set the brush on the kitchen counter and went to the front window. He stopped halfway to it and said, “I think I know why.”</p><p>Muffled shouts from the front yard and the firelight dancing across the windows and onto the walls grew in unison. It hit Cass a second before her Director said it.</p><p>“It’s a riot.”</p><p>A frenzied scratching at her bedroom window had her jumping. But the hooting scratcher responsible brought a broad smile to her face. “Owl!”</p><p>She’d thought they’d taken or even shot him. She’d never been happier to be wrong.</p><p>Owl’s silken feathers reflected the firelight as he tried to reach her. She could see his beak moving but his hoots were swallowed by the climbing voices of a crowd. He pulled on the tiny levers of her windows. But it was in vain. The panes were locked. They were always locked. As she still was.</p><p>Cass yanked against her restraints and called to her Director, “Let me up!” But she didn’t have to say it, he was already rushing behind her with the key in hand.</p><p>A rock smashed through the front window. Boisterous cheers poured in after it. Her Director threw only the seatbelt from her lap and raced her into her room. They dove into a crouch beneath the windows. From that angle past owl, she could see the nearest fire source devouring the back corner of the house. Smoke left the house in a constant grey cloud. The edge was already missing. And what other planks weren’t falling remained like charred black bones that helped the flames to continue their warpath.</p><p>Another rock crashed through a window. That one sounded like it came from her Director’s bedroom. Both of her windows were still intact.</p><p>“Maybe they’re just here for you,” She said to her Director and struggled to her feet, her stuffed owl in her sights. “In which case—”</p><p>“Down!” Her Director jerked her back to the floor as a stone crashed through the window and in between the bars. They shared panting breaths as he clutched her to his chest to shield her from the raining shards of glass. Cass had to give whoever the thrower was credit. The bars were spaced scarcely wide enough for a hand; That was a marksman-level throw.</p><p>Now with the jagged hole in the window, the cries rang all the clearer.</p><p>“Give her up! Give us the witch!”</p><p>“Death to traitors!”</p><p>Her Director glared down at her and she huffed. Okay, so they were there for her. “Point taken.”</p><p>She still needed to get to that pin. But her Director was more focused on the real owl. He kept an arm around her as he led them to crawl—or scoot in her case—to the still intact window. Pebbled glass slid off his back to join the scattered diamond-like mess on the floor. He pulled a key along with a crumpled list from his pocket.</p><p>“Do you have a pen in here?” Her Director asked over the crowd’s jeers.</p><p>Cass forced her eyes not to stray to her owl. “I’m not allowed one, remember?”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean anything.” Her Director removed his arm from around her and dipped his finger in a cut on his shoulder. He unlocked the window and scrawled a note on the paper before she could read it. The flames crackling was a roar.</p><p>Owl switched his perch to the inside window lever as her Director nudged it open. A cloud of smoke rolled its way in making them both cough. Her Director pulled his shirt over his nose but Cass didn’t have the luxury. She sunk closer to the floor and the fresh air there. How much longer the space would last untainted was a mystery.</p><p>Owl sent a concerned call her way but took the note as her Director said, “Get this to the Captain!”</p><p>Owl launched off and her Director shut the window and re-joined her on the floor.</p><p>Cass sprung to her knees to see out as a man cried, “Stop the bird!”</p><p>But no body fell from the smoky sky.</p><p>Her Director grabbed her nearest paperback book and waved the smoke away from their spot.</p><p>Cass sank back to the floor but kept an eye on the edges of the encroaching fire, on the sky. More enraged shouts and some ground shaking thumps followed. She couldn’t help but ask, “What did you tell him?”</p><p>“I told him that I gave you a haircut.” Another couple of rocks shattered the front window, one that sounded like a boulder hit the door. “What do you <em>think</em> I told him?”</p><p>“We need to—” A sharper, closer, crackling cut her off and they both turned.</p><p>Fire blazed up the rear wall. The heat in the small space leapt to that of a furnace. It only took another second for the tallest reaching flame to leap onto her ceiling. The room groaned.</p><p>Her Director was tugging her up. “Come with me.”</p><p>Someone was banging on the front door as they ran across to his bedroom. Cass got a split-second glance out the window to see the front quarter of their fence aflame too.</p><p>“Stay here,” Her Director said, leaving her to lean just inside the door of the green-painted room. This was the first time she’d entered the dark cave. Between his bear skin covered bed, numerous chests that could’ve held a pirate’s lost treasure, and a rolltop desk, there wasn’t much room to move around. No wonder he spent so little time in the space.</p><p>Cass got a glimpse of what was in one of the deep chests as her Director pulled out the first thing on top. She ached at the sight of the sword. It’d been so long since she’d wielded one. She looked again to the chest containing a variety of glinting well-maintained weapons. She had to check that she wasn’t drooling. “Do I get one? They are after <em>me.”</em></p><p>Her Director glanced out the shattered window as he strapped the silver and brown leather sheathed blade to his hips. No firelight scattered across his stony features. “Nope. Sorry.”</p><p>“Can you at least free my hands?”</p><p>“No. When the Guard shows up, I want it to be clear you were innocent in this.”</p><p>Peachy. “Okay. So, I may die but hey, at least no one can blame me! Great logic, Director.”</p><p>“You’re not going to die,” He snapped and slammed the lid of the chest shut. A flashing of red and orange reflected in his eyes and they both turned to see the fire from her room spreading. Spreading around the corner, spreading across the ceiling. Spreading, spreading, spreading. Like hungry fingers reaching for her.</p><p>Another shout from outside rose above the rest, “Come out, traitor! Pay your dues!”</p><p>Her Director was taking her arm again. She held her breath and tucked her head into her shoulder as best she could as they ran under the blazing canopy and through its smoke for the front door. Another round of rocks pelted the window and door. Her power thrummed in turn. If only she had it at her disposal.</p><p>Her Director gave her restraints a once over then his gaze and grip were equally hard on her. “Don’t try anything,” He said, and waited for her nod. “And stay close to me.”</p><p>She almost rolled her eyes. <em>Like she had an option.</em></p><p>He slid out yet another key and unlocked the door. Took a breath. And yanked it open.</p><p>Cass couldn’t see past his broad frame but by the way he clenched the pommel of his sword it was no goodwill festival.</p><p>“Where is she?” A deep voice cried.</p><p>“Give us the witch!”</p><p>Her Directors grip tightened around her arm and he drew her closer against his back. Syrupy blood from his cut leaked down her arm. “The Royal Guard has been made aware of your presence here. You need to get off my land and go home while you still can."</p><p>A central ceiling beam cracked and fell and Cass looked just in time to see it smack the chaise on the way down. The piece of furniture was over taken by the flames in a matter of seconds. The area rug was the next casualty. They had to get out. She pushed against her Director. “It’s almost to the door.”</p><p>While the flames hadn’t yet reached her, the heat and the smoke had. It was merciless as it choked her. Her first cough had her Director leaving the threshold. He didn’t let her move from behind him but there was enough space now to see past.</p><p>The mob was made up of at least three dozen. Farmers, shopkeepers, and people who looked to have just gotten off of work with their paint splattered clothes all held something beside the hatred in their eyes. Most bore torches, some had gleaming pronged pitchforks, and the remainder coiled ropes and rusty chains. A good old-fashioned mob if she’d ever seen one. The adoring shouts made for an even richer experience.</p><p>“Get out of the way or give us her head!”</p><p>“Get the monster!”</p><p>“Get her Dan!”</p><p>A barrel-chested man had crept up the left of the porch—a coil of rope in his hands. Cass ducked and the lasso soared past her head instead of around it.</p><p>Her Director spun toward the man, checking over his shoulder that he’d missed her. But the lassoer had just been the distraction for the second on the right.</p><p>That one hit its mark.</p><p>“Director!” Cass stumbled as the coarse rope pulled taut around her middle. The hairy orangutan of a man did his best to reel her in.</p><p>“I got her!”</p><p>Her Director’s sword was drawn in a flash. Cass fell back against him as the rope cut. The lassoer got a face full of porch.</p><p>Her heart hammered in her chest as her Director pulled her into his side, sword angled out to the crowd. He shouted, “Stay back!”</p><p>Now she had an even better view of the yard. But it wasn’t any nicer. Beyond where the flames ate away at the fence, there was a hill of hay that people were adding and adding to. And right in its middle was a wooden pole as wide around and as tall as the trees in the densest part of the surrounding forest. Beside the pile were two torchbearers standing like grinning reapers.</p><p>They planned to burn her.</p><p>“Hand her over! She needs to meet justice!” A woman in a bonnet boomed from the crowd before the porch.</p><p>Another said, “She can’t get away with her crimes!”</p><p>Her Director’s blade held steady as he said, “Cassandra is serving a lifetime sentence under home incarceration. The King has not let her off—”</p><p>“That’s not good enough!”</p><p>The entire crowd hollered their agreements.</p><p>Four men rushed the stairs. Her Director cut more than wind as he swiped his sword. He barked over the men’s pained cries, “I said stay back!”</p><p>Another lasso was sent for her head but he batted it aside. It was the fire roaring at their backs that sent them into the crowd.</p><p>Her Director’s grip remained near-bruising on her as he led them out. Sword point first. He continued to shout warnings and slash at any crazed enough to push in. The gleaming sword ensured a wide enough radius for them to back around the side of the house. Back toward the stables.</p><p>A few more men, armed with a pitch fork and clubs leapt forward. They were enough of a decoy for another to sling a lasso around her neck. Cass choked and lurched out of her Director’s hold.</p><p>The crowd cheered.</p><p>“Cass!” He kicked away the last of his opponents and swung toward her but he couldn’t cut this one. This one wasn’t rope.</p><p>With her hands immobilized at her waist, Cass had no choice but to go along with the chain strangling her neck.</p><p>The barrel-chested man from the first decoy didn’t get her more than a few steps before her Director grabbed the chain and dug in his heels. He shouted, “Drop it!”</p><p>The crowd didn’t cease their cheering.</p><p>“She doesn’t belong among us! She doesn’t belong alive!”</p><p>“Get her to the stake!”</p><p>Several more joined in on the tug of war. On the opposite side. Cass’ bare scarred feet skidded through the dirt along with her Director. The wooden pole loomed closer. The fire about to turn the corners of the fence framed the destination.</p><p>Cass took voluntary steps into the tugging and let the scraping chain settle around her M.R.D. collar. Then she dug in her heels and pulled back. The indestructible device working in her favor for once.</p><p>But it didn’t slow the tide.</p><p>“Get going!”</p><p>Cass grunted and jumped as a farmer took to prodding her along with his pitchfork. A second one joined in to jab at her Director. Neither of them stopped pulling amidst the prods. But it still didn’t slow the tide. They were still outmatched.</p><p>And the crowd knew it.</p><p>Smiling, cheering, smirking faces surrounded her. Faces of victory. Some took to spitting on her. Most screamed names. Not just nasty names for her, but names of people she’d hurt in her attack. Some listed what it was specifically that’d hurt their loved ones. They recounted her damage with unfailing breath. There was no shortage of screams for her sins.</p><p>The other end of the pitchfork was thrust into the backs of her knees. She dropped into a pile of hay. She wrenched her head up to see the towering stake. They’d made it.</p><p>“No! Don’t do this!” Her Director was shouting, swallowed somewhere deep in the mob beyond her view. “No!<em> Cassandra!”</em></p><p>She heard his call of her name one last time. She didn’t have the breath to call back.</p><p>“Get her up there!”</p><p>Hands were yanking her up from all directions. Straw clung to her clothes, her hair. She rolled in their hold and kicked out at the nearest groin. The man went down with a squealing groan but Cass had little time to savor. Another man managed to get close enough to sock her in the eye, snapping her head back. The blow dazed her long enough for them to subdue her legs and haul her up the mound.</p><p>“Burn the witch!”</p><p>“Death to traitors!”</p><p>Cass was stood on her feet and slammed back against the wooden stake. The chain around her neck wasn’t removed. But rather—in addition to two new ones yanked around her middle and her legs—it was wrapped around and bound behind the large beam.</p><p>“Light her up!”</p><p>The crowd was a blur of raised fists and smiles. But she could see clear enough to know to shut her eyes in time for a vat of oil to be slung on her. It slapped her hair first then dribbled down over her face, over her clamped lips. A second wave of oil splashed onto her chest. That one contained enough to run in rivers all the way down to the hay and slip between each of her toes.</p><p>Cass had to huff against the streams trying to find entry to her nose and keep her lips sealed so as not to breathe any in. Her eyes were too heavily coated to try to see the torchbearers coming to light her platform but she could still smell the nearing smoke over the oil.</p><p>The crowd began a thunderous chant. “Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”</p><p>Crackling flames neared. The chants continued. All Cass could think was that she hoped her dad wasn’t blamed for this.</p><p>“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”</p><p>Cass’ breaths grew faster, shorter… Until one cry rose above the rest.</p><p>“Stop!” Fitzherbert shouted, “Stop in the name of the King!”</p><p>The chants stopped. Shrieks and fleeing footsteps replaced them. “Run, it’s the guard!”</p><p>A cavalry of pursuing footsteps and galloping hooves followed.</p><p>Cass squinted through the thick oil to see four golden figures tackling the figures with the torches. Dirt was kicked over the controlled flames. No fire lived on the hay.</p><p>A glob of oil forced her to shut her eyes again. But she heard her Director’s crunching approach as he ran up the hay.</p><p>“Cass. Cass, I’m here.” His voice was tight with emotion or pain, she wasn’t sure. “You’re—you’re okay. It’s over.”</p><p>The rough edge of his sleeve wiped across her eyes, over her nose and mouth. Her eyes still stung too much to open.</p><p>He stepped away and the chains tying her to the stake were each loosened.</p><p>More crunching steps approached. “Is she okay? Are you okay, Cass?” Fitzherbert asked, “Oh, oh wow. Yikes, you must feel sticky.”</p><p>Her Director removed the chain from around her neck. Her wrist-to-waist set still remained. He responded for her, “She’s okay. You got here in the nick of time.” Her Director pulled her into a trembling hug, despite the oil, and whispered again, “You’re okay.”</p><p>The pair led her down from the mound without another word amongst them. She slid and slipped much of the way. Some of the hay that clung to her feet helped give her a bit of traction in the dirt but not much. She banged her good knee on a metal surface due to that sliding.</p><p>Shouts of protest, orders, and splashes of buckets of water sounded from all around her. The fence and the house. Was anything salvageable? Were they at the house?</p><p>“Want to climb in the wagon or want us to slide you in, Madame Ice Demon?” Fitzherbert said at her side. “I personally would choose the second option as that’s gotta be <em>way</em> more fun, but it’s up to you.”</p><p>Her Director saved her from having to respond, asking no one specifically, “Can we have a towel?”</p><p>Something whooshed over her head. She slipped again in the mud she was creating. Her Director held her up though and guided her through entering the iron prison wagon.</p><p>Eugene followed them in and attached the iron shackles that she vaguely remembered from when she’d been brought here—they still weighed a ton—to her hands above her devices. The equally weighty chain anchored her to the cold floor.</p><p>“Where—” Cass cleared her throat as her voice surprised her by shaking, “Where are we going?”</p><p>“Back to the dungeons,” Was all the Captain said before the door was shut, locked, and she was plunged into an even darker place.</p>
<hr/><p>“Here,” Her Director said, scooting closer across the grimy floor. “Let me clean you up.”</p><p>The wagon lurched into a jostling roll. The mighty iron links on her clattered as something touched her face and she jumped.</p><p>Her Director’s soothed, “Easy, it’s just me, just the cloth.”</p><p>What visual the windowless black depths did permit, the oil stinging Cass eyes blocked. And the swelling black eye. That caused her to wince especially so when the cloth passed over, but he was extra gentle with the wound.</p><p>“I think these clothes have seen their last wear,” He said, “We’ll get some new ones made. The… tomorrow… Okay?”</p><p>His words were faint within the rumblings of the wagon so Cass just nodded unsure if that was the right response. She was sure the sound was a thousand times louder inside then it was outside. But she was still able to hear <em>her.</em></p><p>“Burning up homes now?”</p><p>Cass waited until her Director moved the cloth on from her mouth to her neck to say, “This wasn’t my fault.”</p><p>The cloth on her hesitated then continued wiping. Her Director said, “Of course not.”</p><p>Her twin hummed, “So, the house, the fence, they just… caught fire by themselves?”</p><p>“The mob started the fire. Not me.”</p><p>Her Director said, “I know that.”</p><p>“And why did the mob come? Hmm?” Her twin slid her boots up the wall across from her, reclining. Somehow visible, somehow looking relaxed in the loud metal box. “Just picked dad’s property to destroy by random selection?”</p><p>“They came to kill me,” Cass said.</p><p>The ever-dampening cloth slowed it strokes. “They did. But you’re safe now.”</p><p>“And why did they come to kill you?” Her twin asked, curling, cupping, her hair behind her ear. A particularly rough bump didn’t dislodge her feet from the wall or the smirk ghosting her face one bit.</p><p>Cass scowled. “Because they’re on <em>her</em> side.”</p><p>A sharp inhale and the cloth stopped. Her Director said, “You’re not talking to me, are you?”</p><p>“Stop using Rapunzel as your scape goat,” Her twin said, “Take responsibility. You’re the problem—”</p><p>“Don’t blame me, I’ve been flat on my back in that prison for a month. I didn’t have anything to do with this!”</p><p>Her twin leveled a flat stare. “I know you’re not that far gone.”</p><p>The cloth began wiping her clenched hand in a repetitive motion. Soft and light. Squeezing a few times. It was almost soothing.</p><p>The swordswoman waved at the empty air. “Look around you, look at all the messes you’ve made! All the people you’ve hurt since stealing that thing.”</p><p>“I haven’t hurt anyone.”</p><p>Her twin laughed. “Yeah, okay, now you’re just lying. Somebody better get Fitzherbert, gotta add something else to your book of crimes.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up. I haven’t hurt anyone.” The incident that put her on her month-long bed punishment came to mind. “Well anyone innocent, anyway.”</p><p>“Dad is sitting in a prison wagon with you right now.”</p><p>“He is <em>not</em> innocent,” Cass snapped, “And I’m the one in chains, not him!”</p><p>“Look at him.”</p><p>It was a hard feat to find him in the dark with her least stinging eye but she found him. He wasn’t watching his work with the cloth, but her. In the glow of her M.R.Ds she couldn’t detect any oil on his face but from how his eyes were tearing it was possible some of her own had reached him. Or maybe it was the strong olive smell saturating her. Or the various shades of red decorating his skin with cuts and swelling bruises. The uneven jutting of a dislocated shoulder also didn’t escape her notice.</p><p>“I didn’t—It’s not my fault—”</p><p>“And Raps is impersonating guards and going against the law to see you—”</p><p>“She’s just came to see me like this and rub it in.”</p><p>“You know that’s not true. She misses you. She loves you, as you once did her.”</p><p>Now she was the liar. Cass growled, “Oh shut up.”</p><p>“And now you’re hurting her when she’s done nothing to deserve it.”</p><p>Her power thrummed to life. The devices blocked and flashed in time. <em>“Shut up.”</em></p><p>“The entire kingdom is afraid to sleep at night because of your actions. And while you still cling to the stone, everyone’s holding their breath.” Her twin cradled her gloved shriveled hand, a frown weighing down every inch of her being. “You used to give everything to protect people. When did that stop mattering?”</p><p>“It still matters. I—I ’m doing this to protect.”</p><p>“You’re not protecting anyone.”</p><p>“I’m protecting myself!”</p><p>The twin scoffed. “At the expense of other’s safety. <em>Innocent</em> people.”</p><p>“Rapunzel is <em>not</em> innocent!”</p><p>“She is.”</p><p>Oh sun, if her chains had any slack… “She hurt me! Does that not matter?”</p><p>The accuser just stared at her boots.</p><p>“No. No, of course it doesn’t.” Cass laughed. A low laugh as rumbling and dark as the floor beneath. She’d never mattered as much as the Princess. She’d never been as important. Not her health, not her honor, not her pain, not her destiny, not any part of her life… She’s always come second to Rapunzel. Everything’s always been about <em>her</em>. And it always would be. The Moonstone alone wasn’t enough to change the balance.</p><p>“It matters,” Her twin said, “But it doesn’t make what you’re doing right.”</p><p>“And what would you have me do, huh? Give up the only thing I have left? Just to give <em>her</em> more power?”</p><p>“No. To make things better for you.”</p><p>Cass laughed again. This time so hard, her head hit the back of the iron wall. “Better? How is that going to make anything better? I’d be completely powerless!”</p><p>“You would be free.”</p><p>“Free of what? They’re not going to let me go.”</p><p>“You’d be free to make things better with dad. With the kingdom, even with Fitzherbert. But most of all—”</p><p>The moonstone pulsed so hard she cried out. All she could see was red. “Shut up!”</p><p>“—with Rapunzel.”</p><p>“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Cass slammed her head back against the wall.</p><p>
  <em>Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel… Rapunzel…</em>
</p><p>The hit wasn’t enough. She did it again. Harder.</p><p>Her Director lurched forward and stilled her head. “Cassandra, stop.”</p><p>Her twin continued, coming closer, “You’d be free to make amends with your best friend. Your sister that you love.”</p><p><em>“Shut up!”</em> Sobs forced their way out around her scream, around the pulsing within her. The hands on her head wouldn’t let her throw her head back again. Wouldn’t let her find relief. “Just stop!”</p><p>A steady finger brushed across her cheek caught the first tear. “Cass.”</p><p>“Just make it stop!”</p><p>“My little one.”</p><p>The childhood nickname made her still and open her stinging eyes.</p><p>She didn’t see her twin— just her dad. Both his gaze and hold were gentle as she cried.</p><p>She sobbed again and didn’t resist being pulled into his solid chest. Only pressed closer. “Just make it stop.”</p><p>“It’s over. I’m right here, Cass.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, a tear of his own slid into her greased hair. “Just you and me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:) </p><p>Hope you all enjoyed. See ya next chapter for, "The Transfer"</p><p>ALSO: The haircut scene was inspired by the precious story "Haircut" by FrozenWings. Y'all should really check it out (and her other works) if you like little Cass as I do, you won't be disappointed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Transfer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE BE SURE TO READ BOTTOM NOTES FOR SURPRISE!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cass sat like a caterpillar in the cozy cocoon of her Director’s embrace for the rest of the ride. Half miserable, half secure. He just held her close. Stroked her oiled hair, picked out bits of hay, and shushed her ‘til her tears stopped.</p><p>But once the wagon came to a rattling halt, Cass pulled away. Nausea set in. Though there were no windows in the transport, she could feel the presence of the dungeons looming all around. Its stench of bitter tears and urine clawed its way through her memories. Its music box of wails and groans beat in time with her heart in her ears. Funny how it’d never been as foreboding a place in her youth. As a child the beast was a second home. But now—like everyone else in her life— the beast had turned on her too.</p><p>A key clunked in the door’s locks. She wasn’t prepared for the bolt of light that broke in as the door was opened or for the cobblestone walls beyond.</p><p>If Cass had any energy left, she would’ve scooted against the iron wall at her back or put up more of a struggle with the two guards that entered to unlock her. But as it was, she didn’t. But she did at least growl to all inside, “You’re not putting me back in that hole. I didn’t do anything wrong.”</p><p>“You won’t be going back in the interrogation cell,” Her Director said, clutching the oil-yellowed cloth and his limp arm to his side as he led their way out of the box. “The Captain wouldn’t make such an error.”</p><p>The Captain did in fact make such an error. Though he wasn’t overseeing Cass’ confinement.</p><p>Along with her Director, the peacock had left immediately for a meeting with the King. But the fault still resided entirely with him. And one of the three guards struggling to keep hold of her greased form and get her into the familiar pit of a cell supplemented the fact.</p><p>“Calm down now, Lass! You’re going in here whether ya fight us all night or not.” The guard just barely jerked his toes out of the path of her spearing heel. “It’s the Captain’s orders!”</p><p>The curses Cass screamed in answer would’ve made the Queen of Ingvarr faint. But they did no good.</p><p>Soon her knees cracked against the stone floor. Soon familiar chains from the ceiling snagged her wrists over her head and twin chains from the floor clamped her ankles. She expected to see her dried blood and bits of flesh on the restraints, the floor, the walls, the entire space around her. But two silhouettes in the doorway blocked what little light the torches from the hall provided.</p><p>One figure almost whined, “Do we have to put that on? She hates it.”</p><p>The other murmured back, “Captain <em>said</em> maximum.”</p><p>“Well I’m not doing it. I want to keep my hands intact thank you.”</p><p>“No, I’ve got it.”</p><p>As the silhouettes approached, one beside her gripped her shoulder, almost as one would a comrade, and said, “Hold still, Lass, and we’ll do this real gentle like.”</p><p>She had even less energy to resist them silencing her with the muzzle but she did <em>not</em> hold still. So as warned, they were not gentle.</p><p>Any further protests and threats were killed as it was shoved on. Cass slammed her eyes shut so as not to let them see the tears gathered within. She would stay that way for as long as necessary. She couldn’t bear to see that chair that still remained in the same spot in the cell waiting to chomp and crush her body to dust again. Nor could she bear to see the stained whipping post, the water trough with her claw marks in the wooden side, or her world plunge back into pitch black.</p>
<hr/><p>It couldn’t have been an hour by the time light washed back over Cass and the devices lurking in each corner.</p><p>Her too short breaths kicked back on her face. Her teeth groaned against the metal between them. She did her best to keep her shackles from announcing her tremors. The sticky on-coming summer heat would give her no excuse if her visitors detected them.</p><p>Not that she should even care what they thought. They weren’t here to let her out. She knew that because they had no reason to let her out. Nowhere else to put her now that her Director’s cottage had been razed. So why were they here? More importantly, why did they have to open the door? It was far more impossible to convince herself she was elsewhere than this hellhole with it open. But at least being down to one-working eye helped to keep the scenery exposure to a minimum. And narrowing her good eye at her entering guards and visitor helped even more.</p><p>It wasn’t Fitzherbert— she could tell that much from the lack of self-obsessed ego that radiated from the visitor— but her glare wasn’t wasted on the figure. Anyone entering and not helping her exit was complicit and therefore her enemy. But her visitor—the medic—wasn’t aware of that.</p><p>“I’m very sorry to see you in here again,” The man said, setting his bag down beside Cass, kneeling, and turning his undivided attention upon her. He didn’t touch her but the medic’s stare was so intensely probing that it felt as though he could see her every injury and all the way straight inside her chest to where the core of her power lay dormant. This was nothing new. He looked at her this way every check-up; As though she had a wound that ran far deeper than her skin and bones. It irked her to no end. So, per usual, Cass returned the assessing stare.</p><p>The man’s white hair was growing to be purer than his decades old coat. His loose old coat. If there was a lick of muscle in the medic, his clothes hid them well. Despite his height that dwarfed her even when she was standing, the man never would’ve made the guard. Especially not with how gingerly he’d always been known to work his joints. His squinting eyes were still full of wisdom and secrets and still browner than the liver spots taking over most of his visible skin. But she didn’t get much farther in her assessment as his spectacle-shielded gaze flickered with more flames than from the nearest guard’s torch as he looked her over. A frown was aimed at her dark gag.</p><p>He grumbled something only he was privy to before clearing his throat. “You’ve endured enough of my visits by now, Cassandra. You know how this goes.” He tapped his own neck over his pulse point before reaching for hers. “First things first.”</p><p>He examined her from head to toe, asking only a nod or shake of the head on her part if anything hurt or felt out of the ordinary. He slowed at a few points when he came across knotted muscles or a wave of rebel tremors ran through her. His mumblings that she was safe and his light passing massages relaxed her more than she’d ever admit to.</p><p>When he reached her bad hand and asked her to wiggle each finger, she received a judging stare. Apparently twitching only half of them wasn’t quite acceptable.</p><p>The medic waggled a finger of his own. “You’ve not been doing your exercises, have you?”</p><p>She just shrugged as best she could, a passing tremor making it look like more of a seizing. She <em>had</em> been doing them…when he came to walk her through them for his monthly check-ups. That had to count. The pain and humiliation of failing each exercise under his guidance certainly had a lasting impact through the rest of the months. There had been a few other instances that she tried on her own. But every time she did, she had nothing and no one to distract her from remembering. All she felt and all she heard was that first… <em>crunch.</em> It was better she didn’t try.</p><p>The medic knelt back in front of her and examined and treated her swollen shut-eye. She was glad her gag swallowed her hiss.</p><p>“How’s your knee been treating you since last I saw you? Better, worse, same?”</p><p>Cass waivered her hand. It definitely hadn’t gotten any worse; Unless she counted the bruises she was sure to develop after her run in with the wagon’s steps and the floor beneath her.</p><p>“And have you been keeping up with any of the exercises for your knee?” He asked, white caterpillar brows arched.</p><p>His questioning went on like that for the entire time he held the ice-cool poultice to her eye. Only when she was a second away from head butting the man did he stop. He must’ve read her mind. Or it was the lightening blue of her devices bolting through the dark. Either way he got the message.</p><p>Lifting the poultice away with his hands in surrender, he said, “Forgive me, I’m not meaning to interrogate. I only ask so I can better assist you in your recovery.”</p><p>Cass took her time in letting her power settle. Partly to ensure he shut up and partly because making the guards around her jumpy was just too much fun… she had so little of that nowadays. The internal jabs and stabs of her inverted rocks were worthy prices to pay. And oddly enough, the pain wasn’t the worst of her discomfort.</p><p>Another drop of oil slimed down her leg. It didn’t surprise her that there was still enough on her to run. She felt it in her every crevice. If it were not for the chains stringing her to the ceiling like a prized turkey in the butcher’s shop, she wouldn’t have been able to stay kneeling. As it was, she wobbled on her sore and slick kneecaps. She doubted the guards cared or even noticed, but the medic did.</p><p>“Let’s get you cleaned up now,” He said rummaging once more in his bag of tricks and laying neatly folded articles of clothing over the stiff sides. “Thanks to the pooled efforts of a couple of my assistants, we were able to compile a suitable wardrobe change for you for tonight. I hope you don’t think me presumptuous but I didn’t think you came with a suitcase in tow.”</p><p>Cass thought of all her clothes back at the cottage. The fire had entered through her room. Nothing likely survived in there… that probably included her owl and her last pin. And that decree and it’s mighty purple seal.</p><p>Cass smiled behind her muzzle. The fire also spread into the dining room. Those puffy, floral, hideous chair cushions the princess had made for them were probably gone too. Wow, so there was a silver lining to every cloud after all.</p><p>Even in this pit. Or a silver something anyway.</p><p>“As I’ve learned the hard way, oil stains <em>never</em> come out,” The medic said, lifting a final item from his bag. “I hope you weren’t too attached to your current ensemble.”</p><p>Cass had been around blades for most of her life. She used to take great pride in her collection that grew over the years. She’d been around her father’s sword earlier that day, and the villagers, and the guards’ from her incident a month prior and it hadn’t bothered her. And she knew this one was for her clothes. Her clothes were dirty, clingy, beyond salvaging, and she wasn’t free to change out of them. She knew that, and yet, the sight of the knife, in the pit where she’d bled and lost a part of herself under them too few months ago…  it was a wonder the chains grasping her didn’t snap into pieces at her reeling.</p><p>She wasn’t too sure what all happened in the moments that followed. All she knew was her lungs felt steam rolled, everything was much, much too loud from every direction, nothing was still, a breeze of air where there hadn’t been before, and sticky wetness was swapped for sudsy wetness. Bit by bit. The wetness—on a cloth and in her hair—was refreshing her, polishing her in swooping strokes and light circles. A rhythm, not the same as the circles or strokes, reached her. Then a calm voice.</p><p>“I’m almost done, Cassandra. You’re doing such a great job. Keep breathing with me, in and out. Nice and slow.”</p><p>The medic. Cass glared at the man through her watered good eye. He was a liar. She was doing a terrible job. Her breaths were anything but nice or slow. She tried to tell him what he was but was reminded of the metal presence in her mouth that garbled her attempt.</p><p>But even with her gasping, the world did begin to connect with her again. And she found she didn’t care that the medic or the guards were looking at her with unrestrained pity. She didn’t care that she was naked. All that mattered was that that tool of pain was gone again.</p><p>Now she let her eye shut and did her best to follow that rhythm the medic was modeling for her lungs.</p><p>“Good. Let’s go again, all the way in,” The medic continued wiping her down with butterfly touches and guided her through the exhale, “And all the way out… Excellent. Let’s keep going while we get you changed.”</p><p>One limb freed then re-shackled at a time, the medic and a guard dressed her oil-free body in soft cotton layers topped by a plain light green shift. They didn’t make a single mention of her trembling. The medic just continued to breathe with her.</p><p>An assistant bearing a bowl of steaming broth entered just when they’d finished. The medic accepted it from the young man and gave him leave.</p><p>“I apologize for not warning you in advance, Cassandra,” The medic said as he sunk to a knee before her again. “I accept full blame for that. Even being in practice as many decades as I have been now, I still make mistakes. More than I’d like to admit.”</p><p>The medic extended the bowl in hopeful offering and she would’ve loved to point out that he was making yet another mistake right then. But he had that covered. He said to a guard with a dark stubby beard, “She’s not going to absorb her dinner through her skin.”</p><p>The guard jolted forward with a bumbling apology and removed her gag in a flash. She didn’t say a word in the minutes that followed, only did her best to hold down each spoonful of the rich vegetable broth the medic fed her.</p><p>Once the bowl had gone dry, the medic apologized again for frightening her and said, “Hopefully, you won’t be needing to see much more of me from now on.” The medic threw an unveiled, pointed, glare at the silent guards. He packed his things and the guards took that as their cue.</p><p>Maybe it was the broth that fueled her or the adrenaline that was still coursing through her, but when they went to place her gag back on, she didn’t make it so easy for them. Not that time. Cass reminded them why they’d needed it in the first place. But at least she didn’t go all the way through the glove of the yowling guard. She didn’t even continue to fight the rest as they forced the device back on her; She was too busy laughing. The private had leapt back a foot in the air like a soft bellied tabby cat.</p><p>Though he winced hard enough to dislodge his spectacles an inch from his nose as he witnessed the guard’s muzzling display, Cass could’ve sworn a smile too rippled across the medic’s face before he exited.</p>
<hr/><p>It had to be over an hour before the suffocating pit’s nothingness was next interrupted.</p><p>Over the memories of her own screams and breaking body, a bellow rattled through the dungeons. Her father. “Get her out of there! <em>Now!”</em></p><p>When the door burst open, it revealed he wasn’t even in the fifth level. But the guards and the keys in their hands all quaked the whole way over to her just the same.</p><p>Fitzherbert rushed in after them, wincing. Cupping and massaging his elephant ears. She hoped her father had made him deaf.</p><p>Her power surged again when the spotless Captain neared. She eyed the sheathed sword at his side but that didn’t make her nervous. He was never there to do the dirty work, only ask the questions. For once she was glad for the limitations of her gag.</p><p>But the Captain flew behind her to unlock the thing. Cass jerked away with a growl. She wasn’t telling him <em>anything.</em></p><p>Fitzherbert managed to grab hold of the straps anyway. Unlocking it, he said in a rush, “Cassandra, I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. How very <em>very</em> sorry. I never meant to put you back down here. Or to put this gizmo back on.”</p><p>With a string of her saliva, the gag came away again but she still didn’t say a word. Even though his words made no sense at all. She blinked as a guard with jangling chains in hand dashed in and set to work with the Captain in switching out her binds. Was this a new tactic? Trying to trick her into believing she was being released only to pounce the second she was up?</p><p>“I knew I should’ve overseen your transfer first. The king could wait,” Fitzherbert grumbled, “The best part is he hadn’t even shown up on time!”</p><p>Cass’ hands were locked behind her back. Her ankles were released from the floor and reconnected with enough slack for small steps.</p><p>She knew this set up. Water trough it was then. How boring. She really should’ve known better; It’s Fitzherbert, of course he wouldn’t come up with anything clever or original. She didn’t exactly <em>enjoy</em> any of the water methods, but she could deal. He wouldn’t get anything from her. She could deal. And yet… though the air was just putrid and pee —both old and fresh—saturated as ever, Cass clung to each breath she could still take. It would be a while before she got many more. The gasp in-between dunks she never really counted.</p><p>But oddly enough, when they hauled her to her feet, they didn’t lead her to the trough but to the open door. And out the open door. With a snapping clatter she stumbled, unaccustomed to walking and not just being dragged in her leg shackles. But she was spared from a full out trip and fall by the men gripping her arms. She nearly gawked at Fitzherbert. Why were they letting her out?</p><p>The Captain said, “I promise, Cass, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a miscommunication pure and simple.”</p><p>The remaining six of her guards closed formation around them. They all continued on to the torch lit open stairwell doorway.</p><p>“But Captain,” A guard behind her that’d been involved in her muzzling ventured, “Ya said maximum…”</p><p>“I know what I said but I meant on the fourth level. And I told Davis to clean out a cell on the fourth level. In an open, not deeply traumatizing cell, with all of you standing watch. On the <em>fourth level!</em> She wasn’t supposed to even go through here.”</p><p>As they turned into the dark slate stairwell and her bare feet touched the first step, she remembered. She’d gone up these stairs before. Months ago, for her trial. She hadn’t gone up one step at a time with both feet and gentle, patient assistance. She’d been dragged. She’d been gagged. She was being marched to what she thought was her death sentence. She’d been sentenced to even worse.</p><p>The half solid iron, half pristine iron barred door at the top of the stairs was unlocked and swung open on groaning hinges to reveal one of the worst parts of her new nightmare of a life.</p><p>Her Director was on her before she’d made it to the landing. His words only though as the guards didn’t break formation to allow him through.</p><p>“Cassandra, you okay? Did they hurt you? I swear if they harmed you…”</p><p>He looked about ready to burst into flames. About ready to compete with the torches lighting the fourth stairwell. And yet, though his clenched jaw and fists declared his fury along with the tension in his arms and shoulders—both now home in their sockets—worry tugged at his brow and warred in his eyes.</p><p>“I’m so sorry this happened. Just one more day, Cass,” He said, as though her silence was an invitation for him to continue, “You’re out of here for good tomorrow.”</p><p>How dare he act concerned. How dare he act blameless. How dare he behave as though they were on the same side. How dare he.</p><p>Had he really known she was to be put back down in the cell she’d been tortured in? No clue. But he was far from innocent in this. He was not the hero she idolized him to be growing up. She would never forget what had put her here. <em>Who</em> had put her here. And she would never forgive it.</p><p>She still didn’t make a sound. But Cassandra put everything she had into conveying with her lips and her eyes one word. Only for him. One reminder she hoped seared though his flesh as it had her own months ago and every day since.</p><p>She mouthed, <em>Traitor.</em></p>
<hr/><p>Her new cell was brighter. A head sized window—barred of course—let in a stream of moonlight from high in the center of the back wall. Floor to ceiling bars made up the front wall and let in firelight. A wall of her six guards stood beyond. Two others were set to pace the length of the level. Cobblestones that were somehow grimier than the fifth level’s stones made up the entire fourth level. A glob of that grime had hitched a ride between her toes but she’d wiped it off on the Captain’s reflective boots before she’d entered the cell.</p><p>She’d seen no rats—well four legged ones—upon her entry, but they were bound to be around somewhere. There was a padding-free complex wire-looking bed on the wall but she was relieved that she wasn’t set up there. She’d been strapped down to a bed enough for one lifetime.</p><p>No, instead she was bolted down to the floor again. A chain with links the size of oranges ran from the middle beside a drain and to her still linked MRD cuffs on her stretched out legs. Her hands remained behind her back. At least this position allowed her to lean against the sweaty wall and watch her guards.</p><p>She still hadn’t spoken to anyone. But Fitzherbert had babbled enough for ten people. More apologies, complaints about his own failings, and empty promises. Only one piece of what he’d rambled about had interested her. And she played it over and over in her head as the minutes of the night passed.</p><p>“The King agreed to our request: You’ll be transferred in the morning to your new suite accommodations here in the palace with your dad, for the foreseeable future.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>One day later…</strong>
</p><p>That stupid scroll followed her to the palace. It was already corrupting the wall of her new ivory still doorless room the minute Cass entered.</p><p>But it wasn’t exactly the same. Other than the waxy purple seal being still leaky fresh, there were three new lines and many of the old altered.</p><p>The most teeth grinding ones to blame were these two:</p><p> </p><p>-<strong> No</strong> outdoor access. The Imprisoned Must remain WITHIN palace walls; except in a case of emergency. Escort within palace for the Imprisoned will be comprised of the Director and no less than two guards at any time; Restraints are also required for the Imprisoned when outside of guest suite. Access to the kitchens and armory is prohibited. Access to Official Ceremonies is prohibited. <strong>ACCESS TO ROYAL WINGS IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN.</strong></p><p> </p><p>-The Imprisoned is permitted SEVEN HOURS of free time per day during daylight hours and they may be split up for meal OR work needs. Bedroom confinement is <strong>mandatory</strong> for ALL other hours and may be revoked only by the Director in a case of emergency. All hours are to be logged by the Director and each entry signed by the Director, the Imprisoned, and an on-duty guard. Logs are submitted to the Captain for daily review.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The impossible had happened: Cass now missed the cottage.</p><p>While far more ornate—especially in regards to the two-layer golden and crystal candle chandelier trapezing from the ceiling of the sky-blue dining room and the harp in the sitting room that was nearly as tall as her—the guest suite was a greater cage. Less relaxed. More formidable.</p><p>Her new room had one less window than the cottage. Curtains and their rods were still absent. Bars—painted white for some reason—were still present and freshly mounted if the dry wall dust on the tile was anything to go by.</p><p>The suite’s front room was three window short as well. In fact, her room and the dining room were the only ones with a window at all. It was a mystery why they gave this room to her and not to her Director. Fitzherbert must’ve decided the layout.</p><p>But her room did have something in common with every other room in the suite. A great big tan and sunshine yellow square area rug with alternating patterns of golden vines and suns from the outside to the center. She hated it. It was a shame she didn’t have more of that goo between her toes for the dungeons to improve the accent piece.</p><p>But other than that, and the pristine ivory tiles and gold trimmed walls, that was where the similarities between the rest of the suite and her room ended. There wasn’t a lick of other furniture or décor in her room beside the rug and an out of place iron bed. The blanched bars didn’t count.</p><p>The iron bed was where Cass was currently. On the feather soft, crisp white satiny sheet covered bed that was neither too firm or too absorbent. She hated it too.</p><p>Cass turned her glare from the king’s new document down to where a new chain was connecting her foot to the single rod footboard by a welded-on gleaming steel ring. At least her hands remained unchained for now. She’d been made aware that overnight would still be the same hand and foot binds she’d had back in the cottage. But for now, she could still sit up or turn on her sides or even stand and walk around her new room if she felt like it. But she couldn’t pick the lock of her bind. Not now that her last hope was miles away and melted to nonexistence. Not now. Cass rubbed the tender skin around her permanent devices. Not ever again.</p><p>A knock at the front door echoed from beyond the alcove entryway and through the suite. A crinkle of a folding newspaper preceded sure steps.</p><p>“That’ll be dinner,” Her Director said, peeking in at her on his way to the door. “I’ll come get you after I set it up and we’ll do the log.”</p><p>The ridiculous log. That would make her fourth entry. She’d already used up five of her allotted hours for the day. The first two hours had been for a tour of the suite and a long, silent breakfast; That made up for the first of the entry logs. The day’s date already filled in at the top. The time entered by her Director while she watched: 09:10. The reason and location: Entry-Bedroom C. Then it was followed by the three signatures, hers first.</p><p>The next as her Director brought her out for lunchtime was only slightly different. Time: 13:47. Reason and location: Exit- Suite dining and sitting rooms. And two signatures followed hers.</p><p>And once more her Director pressed the thick sheet against the doorway and filled in the spaces. 16:41. Entry- Bedroom C. And he extended the stubby charcoal to her and the rest followed.</p><p>It hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours since the riot but Cass couldn’t help but wonder, was it possible they’d rebuilt the cottage yet?</p>
<hr/><p>The next day at dinner, the door opened with a cry of, “Inspection!”</p><p>Cassandra let her mashed potato crusted spoon clatter to the glossy oak table and groaned around a mouthful, “Are you kidding me?”</p><p>It was only her first full day out of the dungeons and she’d spent most of it eating, sleeping, and pooping. And filling out that idiotic paper. Couldn’t they give her a teaspoon of trust? Of a break?</p><p>Four soldiers filed in, their golden armor fitting right in with the lavish suite. Her Director abandoned his meal to untether her leg from the floor and gave her bad knee a tender squeeze. He said, “It’ll be over soon.”</p><p>Not soon enough. Just as the grating sound of her ankle chain fell to the floor, an even greater grating sound filled the space.</p><p>“Good evening, Madame Ice Demon, Director,” Fitzherbert said, boots thumping on the pristine tiles and smile sparkling in a passing ray of sunlight as he practically skipped in. “How’s the guest suite life treating you thus far? Did you try the tiny mints on the coffee table? I tell ya, I could make an entire meal out of those little guys.”</p><p>Cassandra would’ve face planted in her potatoes if her Director hadn’t pushed them out of the way last minute. Her head clunked against the oak instead. Where were those rioters or a guillotine when you needed em?</p><p>“On your knees, Cassandra, hands on your head,” Came the command from a ginger guard to her left. She knew him. He wasn’t new. He had to know how this really worked by now.</p><p>Three… Two… One…</p><p>“Hey, hey, you guys got the harp! Why didn’t you tell me!” The Captain cried, delaying her wall collision. “Oh man, I want one of these babies in my room. Either this or a bongo drum.”</p><p>Everyone’s attention turned to Fitzherbert. Was he serious? Well if it put off their search… She asked, “Do you even know how to play an instrument, Captain Airhead?”</p><p>Fitzherbert gaped; a gloved hand pressed to his chest to shield his delicate heart. “Do I—Do I know how to play? You just take a listen, missy. Prepare to be blown away by my sheer level of awesomeness that you could never hope to achieve.”</p><p>The Captain settled himself on the light leather cushioned stool and leaned into the wooden instrument.</p><p>Cass leaned back in her seat. A grin pulling at her lips. Watching Fitzherbert make a fool of himself was fun any day. And she had a front row seat to see him do it in front of his own men. What a good evening it did turn out to be.</p><p>But once the Captain began to pluck those strings, her grin slid away. He didn’t make a fool of himself. Playing a Mozart concerto, he didn’t miss a note. On time. In key. Every bit of the jovial tune floated in harmony with the setting sunbeams bathing the room. Every note revealed a side of the Captain she’d never seen before. And by the dropped jaws around the room, it was evident she wasn’t the only one taken by surprise.</p><p>With a few flourished twangs, the Captain completed the song.</p><p>No one made a sound.</p><p>The Captain beamed at the instrument then to his audience. He stood and tugging his suit jacket down, he gave a one-armed bow and said, “You may shower me with glorious praises now.”</p><p>The guards and her Director laughed and all applauded the still bowing Captain.</p><p>Fitzherbert looked at her expectantly but Cass waited until the other’s cheers died down. The Captain had impressed her. He had talent. Real talent. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “I guess you have to keep the Princess interested somehow,” She said with a shrug and went back to picking at her cold potatoes. “Since when did you become cultured and civilized?”</p><p>“Oh, never. I have no idea how to actually play. This is a prototype of Varian’s. It plays the instrument for you, much like a music box.” The Captain tilted the instrument to its side to show the machine gears and cogs under a flap at the bottom and five little spoon-like pedals. “There are five songs to choose from! Want to try it?”</p><p>
  <em>“Why you little—!”</em>
</p><p>“Cass, put that down!”</p><p>It took her Director and two of the guards to save the fleeing Captain from a snoutful of potatoes and plate.</p><p>From beyond the door, laughing like the mad man he was, Fitzherbert called, “Carry on without me, gentlemen!”</p>
<hr/><p>Cass had never been one for keeping up a journal. Not like Rap—the princess. And she wasn’t going to start now because she didn’t even have any materials. But if she did, she would’ve started a list on each of her targets.</p><p>Starting with Captain idiot. Maybe on the subject: Reasons to drive a halberd through that perfect nose. But if that were the case, she’d never stop writing. There may not even be enough paper and trees in the world for the fullness of that list.</p><p>As much as her sadistic ankle chain allowed, she paced a golden sun stripe around the square rug in her room. Counting the reasons she hated Fitzherbert with every step, every clink. She was up to three hundred and eleven when her Director answered a knock at the front door.</p><p>He thanked someone and headed back to his room with a folded fabric stack.</p><p>She stopped her pacing and let her curiosity get the better of her. “What’s that?”</p><p>Her Director jumped and looked between her room and his as though debating something then crossed to hers. “It’s my new uniform.” He laid out the pile on her bed. “What do you think?”</p><p>A clean-cut jacket colored a royal blue so deep it was almost navy lay beside a matching pair of trousers, white gloves, and sturdy black boots. Seemingly just from the cobbler, the shoes could use some polishing. But that couldn’t be said for the shining golden buttons in a single row down the jacket’s angled front flap, a gold stripe bordering from shoulder to the last button. Two golden braids on the shoulders with no string out of place completed the uniform.</p><p>She liked it. It was better than his old one or Fitzherbert’s. More militant. But she just arched a brow and said, “They gave you a uniform for your role as my Director?”</p><p>“No…” He ran a finger over a bumpy braid. “It’s for my new position as the Captain’s advisor. It was part of the deal with the King for our moving in here. Plus, with what happened in the dungeons, it’s clear he really could use some mentoring in how to handle <em>his</em> new position. It’ll help everyone.”</p><p>Her heart leapt in her chest. “So… you’re not going to be my Director anymore?”</p><p>“Oh no, I will be,” He said, folding everything back into a taut pile. “That’s not changing.”</p><p>She knew it was a long shot. She went back to her pacing. Reason three hundred and twelve and thirteen for hating the Captain came easy enough. “You’re going to be working from here.”</p><p>“Nope. I’ll be wherever the Captain needs me. Primarily his office I’m expecting.”</p><p>Cass slowed. “…The guards will be babysitting me more than you then?”</p><p>“No, you are not to leave my side while we’re here. I’ve even given up my once a month day-off in our new arrangement.”</p><p>Cass snapped around to where he’d retreated to the doorway. Conveniently a meter from her reach with the chain. “So, let me get this straight: As if this entire situation wasn’t already loathsome enough, I’m going to be spending every single day now… with <em>him?”</em></p><p>Reasons three hundred and fourteen through one thousand all came at once.</p><p>The next day Cass sat directly across from the Captain in a rotten chair in his rotten office. Her glare upon the man as unyielding as the restraints on her wrists. But all the more biting.</p><p>The scratching of her Director’s and Fitzherbert’s quills were the only things brave enough to fill the air. Fitzherbert’s quill began quivering five minutes in.</p><p>In the following minutes that ticked by, her prey alternated clearing his throat and tugging at his red jacket collar.</p><p>She watched her Director out of the corner of her eye.</p><p>Sitting at his new desk indirectly between her, the Captain, and the only exit, her Director watched in turn. Eyes darting like he was watching a tennis match, he watched them more than he worked. His high-backed red upholstered chair closer to the bookcase wall behind him than the desk. His feet under the desk were angled toward her. Ready to intervene if need be.</p><p>But she wasn’t going to do anything. Not if the Captain stayed still. Stayed silent. Stayed afraid.</p><p>“Ya know, Cass,” Fitzherbert said with an unsteady smile and another tug at his collar once they’d passed the first hour mark. “If you want me to teach you how to play that harp, you can just ask me. I’d be happy to impart my gifts onto someone in need.”</p><p>She didn’t take the bait. Didn’t relent with her glare. She would find out. If it was possible to melt something where it sat just with the heat of a gaze and will alone, she would find out. She had all the rotten time in the rotten world.</p><p>Every day for the first week, she did nothing else. She didn’t read or even acknowledge the snacks or books her Director tried to distract her with. She only sat and watched <em>him. </em>She’d never found research so fascinating.</p><p>On the fifth day, her prey showed a spike of results.</p><p>“Alright, I give!” The Captain’s quill flew over his shoulder and he clutched his precious brown mane in his hands and pulled. “Say what you need Cass, get it out. Yell at me, throw things, something! I’m totally open to anything at this point! Just stop with the silent treatment, okay?”</p><p>Cassandra’s chains kept quiet for her as she dragged a leg over the other and crooned, “Am I making you uncomfortable, Captain?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>She smiled, slow and wide. “Good.”</p><p>By week two, Cass decided she’d been giving him more of her attention than he deserved. So, reclining on the wooden chair, knees hooked over an arm that was all angles and no padding and another supporting her back, she faced away from his entire area. Her books her only interest.</p><p>When the Captain would stand or enter, she raised her book higher—but not when he spoke. When he spoke, she didn’t twitch. After another day she didn’t hear him at all. Only a faint buzzing of a mosquito.</p><p>Until one conversation between the two men at the end of the week broke through.</p><p>Turned sideways in his chair, her Director was showing the Captain an old listing of a guard assignment for the halls and dungeons and talking about the responsibilities of proper guard selection, pairing a senior guard with a new guard—when they have them—and staying on top of the wellbeing of the posted men.</p><p>Cass flipped a page in the book on her lap. “Maybe go over his responsibilities for prisoners’ wellbeing too while you’re at it. I don’t think he’s ever heard of those.”</p><p>Fitzherbert said, “Well I haven’t seen you file a complaint about how I handled things from your two stays.”</p><p>Her Director just blinked and said, “Fitzherbert, that has to be the most thoughtless thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.”</p><p>“I’m just saying I did look after your wellbeing, Cass. As best I could under the circumstances.”</p><p>Her power sparked to life. Beginning a low chant of his name. Cass snapped her book shut and grinned. “And who, pray tell, controlled the circumstances?”</p><p>“T’was the king, not I. Look could we just stay on topic, please?” Fitzherbert went back to making his chicken scratch on his paperwork but sent her Director a pleading look for him to continue.</p><p>“We are on topic,” She said, doing her best to keep her breathing even despite the power writhing inside her chest. “We were talking about your failures at your job.”</p><p>“My failures—!” Fitzherbert forced his mouth shut and went back to his work. “No, you’re not getting to me that easy. I’m sticking to what I said. Cause you’re sitting here, alive and insulting me so that’s all that matters now.”</p><p>If he’d stopped there, her power might’ve settled and she might’ve actually been… somewhat touched. But he didn’t. He went on to say, “And it wouldn’t kill you to be a little grateful for the countless things I’ve done right for you these past months, Cass.”</p><p>She gave a laugh rather like a snap of a chisel on glass. “Grateful?”</p><p>His quill ceased its scratching.</p><p>Cass kept the poisonous grin on her face… And lunged.</p><p>All three chairs in the room crashed to the floor.</p><p>Her Director barked her name.</p><p>All she felt and saw was red. That was what her arm was coated in too. But from the midst of that, jutted out in a piece scarcely thicker than a needle but longer than her forearm, was a black rock. Its arrow headed tip hovered a centimeter from her father’s heart. It was meant for the Captain’s throat.</p><p>Cass’ body thrummed with the strength of her power, with the small release of it, with her pain and bloodlust. She growled to the blue and gold barrier, “Out of my way.”</p><p>“Not happening,” Her Director said, gripping the knock-out device half out of his pants pocket so hard it looked as though his knuckles would burst. “Stand down.”</p><p>Her blood began to rain onto the cobblestone ground. Her arm ached. Her weapon held steady. She met his stony gaze and said, “Move.”</p><p>He did, but only to jab a finger at her fallen chair. “Sit. Down.”</p><p>She turned her attention to the silent figure on the other side of the desk. No fear showed on his face. He was tensed for a fight. One hand on the swooping hilt of his sword, the other bearing a second knock-out device. His too heavy breaths were the only thing giving away his facade.</p><p><em>“Cassandra,” </em>Her name left her Director’s lips in a snarl like she’d never heard before.</p><p>Her power demanded she plow through him too. He was another of her targets after all. Why should she hesitate to eliminate the man that’d betrayed her? The man currently protecting her torturer? Neither deserved her mercy.</p><p>But it was as though an invisible hand appeared. As light as a leaf fluttering onto her arm. It wasn’t daunted by the blood slicking her skin, rather it pushed her weapon back into her arm. Whoever the hand belonged to gave no reason, whispered no secret. It seemed it didn’t have need enough to do so.</p><p>“Cassandra.”</p><p>Her gaze snapped back up to her Director’s. They were as guarded as the rest of him.</p><p>He pointed again to the chair behind her. “I won’t say it again.”</p><p>Her eyes and devices flared and were reflected once more in the buttons of his uniform.</p><p>But she righted the chair and sat.</p><p>Her Director kept the device in hand but pulled her, on the chair, to sit between his desk and the wall, facing the bookcase.</p><p>“Lift your hands out in front of you,” He said and snaked a chain around her waist. It was locked with a clear click tight around her body and to her cuffs. He kept the excess in his hand as he sat back at his desk.</p><p>She couldn’t see the Captain and she didn’t try to. But it was at least a full minute before she heard his chair being righted and his clothes rustle as he sat.</p><p>No scratching quills filled the silence. No shuffling papers. The men may have been having a silent conversation about what to do with her. She didn’t care.</p><p>Her Director eventually broke the silence only by digging in his desk for a first-aid kit and tending to her wound.</p><p>She didn’t flinch or look away from the books.</p><p>Fitzherbert cleared his throat again and kept his voice low as he said, “I won’t tell the king about this… incident.”</p><p>Her Director thanked the Captain.</p><p>She kept looking at the books.</p><p>“After all,” Fitzherbert gave a weak chuckle, “I did offer for you to throw things… or something.”</p><p>“Or something,” Her Director echoed.</p><p>His gaze burned into the side of her head for the remainder of the shift. But it was nothing compared to the burning, joyous, knowledge that—though limited—Cassandra could still use her powers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was my least favorite chapter in the story line up guys, but it had to be done. Starting next chapter and for a little while things are going to be kinda happy so whoo hoo! Also, a character enters the story next chapter! WHICH... WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW OR MONDAY!!!! *Parties* I know it doesn't quite count as a double update weekend as I'm more so making up for missing last week, but hey at least we'll be caught up!<br/>Also, if anyone's sticking with me in this series after this chapter, I made an announcement in the series notes that I'll be uploading my parallel/alternate sentence story "Yours Truly" this fall!</p><p>*NOTE 9-7-2020: 12 is gonna be posted late tonight but it's coming!!</p><p>See y'all super soon for... "The Tournament"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Tournament</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just in case anyone's wondering: It's now been seven months since Cass' arrest/chapter 1 events.<br/>And I forgot, there's TWO new characters making an appearance this chapter.<br/>And chapter title may not quite fit as this was more of a practice game than anything, but it wasn't originally going to be but... too late to change it!<br/>I apologize that the writing kinda goes down hill at the end. It's five A.M. and I haven't gone to sleep yet cause I was trying to get this finished up. But...<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you on my side or not?” Cass hissed from amidst her bed sheets that night at the stone inside of her, at the bandaged and rock-less forearm disappointing her. She ignored the soft hooting drifting in her room with the moonlight and pulled again. She <em>commanded</em> her core of power to obey her will, just as it had that afternoon. <em>One rock, just one thin rock. Avoid the arteries, come out of that last spot. </em></p><p>
  <em>Get. Me. Out.</em>
</p><p>Nothing. Her power gave nothing more than a single pathetic pulse.</p><p>She began to shake. The chain between her wrists slapped her forehead as she clutched her hair. Strands tore away with her good hand. A growl strong enough to wake the entire castle built in her, curled her trembling lips. But when she re-took to clawing at her neck, her wrists, her ankles; re-took to slamming those unbreakable, immovable, monsters on her wrists against the iron bed rails, a growl wasn’t what came out.</p><p>Her Director rushed into her doorway having heard the slamming. But he didn’t enter or say a word. Even the owl outside had quieted. Nothing interrupted her sobs. Not even the dawning of the morning.</p><p>She didn’t get any sleep that night. Or any night that week. As her tears turned her white sheets grey after each failed attempt to summon another rock and get the devices off, only one thought slithered through her mind and kept her up even on the tearless nights.</p><p>How powerful was she really if someone else—a kid, no less— could so easily contain her?</p>
<hr/><p>Despite her incident in the Captain’s office a week ago, nothing changed in their new routine. Well nothing except for her wrist-to-waist system being her new constant companion beginning the moment before she’d step out of their suite doors. Once out, Cass found herself planted right back in there almost every. single. day.</p><p>Maybe trapped was a better word.</p><p>The twin old but unshakable desks, the curved wall of books, her Director’s steely stare, even the dust bin in the corner worked together to keep her cornered. But her newest book on geographical grids now did its best to rescue her.</p><p>It swooped Cass away north by north east, south by southwest, over oceans and continents with no need for boat or horse. Once the maps took her to the Great European Plains it was hard to keep from caressing the page. Its expanse sucked her in. What lay beyond the flat, yellowed grainy paper… The wind in her hair, the strength of the galloping horse beneath her, the open blue sky, open green grass with no fence, chain, guard or other living person in sight… If only.</p><p>Cass scowled and flipped the page, tearing it an inch from the spine. What a cruel book. The chains adorning her rattled as she ripped through another few. No wonder this was in <em>his</em> office. Probably planted it just for her. Granted Cass hadn’t asked if she could read the Captain’s books, but he had to have known she would. She certainly wasn’t going to waste hours of her life staring at his life-sized portrait by the door. Now, if she had some darts…</p><p>“Having fun over there?” Her Director asked.</p><p>The cherry red wooden desk that was all sharp edges—save for the simple circle and triangle wreathed national crest on the corner of each leg— separated her from the other occupant in the room keeping her holed up. Though with how his quill had taken a break from scrawling only to dip into the inkwell in the last hour that they’d been in the office, she wasn’t sure he would even notice if she tried to leave. Now that she was paying attention, she noted that he wasn’t even taking a break to look away from his strewn slew of papers. Or even blinking.</p><p>Cassandra stood and flung her book into the hub of his papers. At his mere cocking of a brow she sat back down. He was no fun to surprise. She said, “I need a new book, Director.”</p><p>He pulled a tan book off the shelf from over his shoulder and passed it to her without even breaking his writing to peek at the title. “Am I your librarian now?”</p><p>“No, Director, I would never mistake you for something so useful.”</p><p>His eyes snapped up to hers and a blot of ink spread on the document from his frozen quill. “Would you quit calling me that?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Director.”</p><p>She chuckled, “Is that not what you are to me?”</p><p>“Not only.” Her Director leveled her with a look as dull as a butter knife before going back to his work. “And you say it like it’s a foul word.”</p><p>Cass thumbed through her new book. “My apologies… <em>Director.”</em></p><p>A rogue stroke and quill tore through paper.</p><p>She did her best to swallow her smirk as her Director crumpled the ruined sheet into a ball and slammed it into a file drawer.</p><p>She started with the opening chapter of her book. A three-piece leaf was sketched in the margins. She flipped to another section… and another… and all the way to the end reference index. Plants. This was a book on plants. Was Fitzherbert a botanist now?</p><p>She stood and tossed the book onto her Director’s desk again. “This one was worse. Maybe you could actually try to find me a good one this time?”</p><p>Her director tilted his hunched wooden desk clock up and brushed a non-existent layer of dust off the face. “I’ve got a better idea.”</p><p>“If it involves me teaching you how to tell time, you can count me out.” Cass allowed that suppressed smirk to show and purred, “But if it involves me cleaning your clock…”</p><p>“It involves us going outside.”</p><p>Her smirk fell away. “Outside?”</p><p>“Yes, we were invited by the Captain to attend a sporting event today. It started half an hour ago,” He said, “Would you like to go?”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Cricket.”</p><p>Cass let her gaze slide to the closed doorway. The last cricket game she’d seen was over four years ago. It wasn’t something she followed avidly, the premise of the sport far too tame and bloodless for her taste, but she did attend one annually. With him. Her father had been the one to start the tradition with her. Candied apples and Cricket duty, they’d called it. The first year, they’d missed most of the game as her candied apple got wound up in her hair and her tearful attempts at getting it out somehow resulted in getting it stuck even deeper. Amazingly, when her dad had offered her his apple afterward, she’d not been a bit deterred from diving right into eating the sweet. Five was an… interesting age.</p><p>Cass looked at the clock on Fitzherbert’s desk. It wouldn’t have reached half-time yet. “I thought I was prohibited from attending an event. And going outside.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure the Captain inviting us himself is grounds for an exception.”</p><p>True. And if not, she’d be more than happy to take the Captain down with her. “Do you know who the team skippers are?”</p><p>“Fitzherbert is heading one team.”</p><p>Her Director was staring resolutely at the kingdom’s cheery flag draped high against the wall. Why was he staring at the flag? What was he hiding?</p><p>Cass narrowed her eyes. “And the other?”</p><p>“I’ll give you three guesses.”</p><p>That was all the answer she needed. She took her plant book back.  “No thanks.”</p><p>She could feel her Director’s gaze on her long enough for her to get through the first page.</p><p>A heavy sigh and he went back to work.</p><p>Fifteen minutes and four pages later, she’d nearly fallen fully into a dream about being convinced to jump off a cliff by a group of the most boring talking plants. Her Director pushing his chair back with a short scrape brought her back to reality.</p><p>Straightening papers into three neat stacks and placing them on the Captain’s desk, he sent her a small smile and said with a nod toward the door, “C’mon.”</p><p>Plant book in hand, she stood and shrugged her shoulders. Having her hands trapped at her waist kept her arms in an almost constant state of sleep. And pins and needles. She yawned, “Are we going back to the suite?”</p><p>“Yes, but then we’re going to catch some of the game.”</p><p>Cassandra dropped back into her seat.</p><p>Her Director towered over her and crossed his arms, biceps bulging. “Don’t fight me on this, young lady. We’re going.”</p><p>He was practically inviting her to do just that. So, she did just that.</p><p>Cass anchored her foot around the knobby leg of her chair like a ship bracing for a tsunami and met her Director’s glare. <em>Make me.</em></p><p>Her declaration of war had been accepted. Her Director’s eyes narrowed to knife-thin slits.</p>
<hr/><p>The mighty crack of the Straight bat met the red apple ball’s bowled delivery and brought on a smattering of calls of, “Good show!”</p><p>Over a column bordered terrace and the tops of lord’s and ladies’ wilting wigs and around gossips twittering away behind and without lace fans, Fitzherbert—the current striker—could just be made out sprinting for the pitch’s alternate corner.</p><p>A yellow butterfly floated on a bush-swaying breeze past where Cass’ nose would’ve been—if it weren’t for the wall of glass between them.</p><p>“Funny, when you said we were going ‘outside’,” She said to the man in blue at her side, “I thought you meant we were going to be <em>outside.”</em></p><p>The window enclosed sun-room overlooked the castle’s spacious back gardens and excluded her from all but the heat. Her chains dug into her waist and tender skin of her wrists as she strained to wipe her palms on her brown trousers. She could do little for the sweat on her brow, though the wispy white layers of chiffon falling just to her shoulder blades and surrounding her head and neck absorbed what little they could. The scarf blended in well with her white blouse.</p><p>“I’m so glad you dragged me to come watch lucky glimpses of the game and bake to death.” She tried and failed to push the covering sticking to her cheek back with her shoulder and huffed. “If we’re not going out, you could at least take this off.”</p><p>The makeshift hood—which he’d grabbed after they stopped by the suite to add their new destination to the log—to conceal her hair had been tossed on by her Director so as not to “draw the people’s attention”. Because apparently when it was about sparing the people’s feelings—<em>the Princess’</em> feelings—only then was Cass allowed a covering. It still wasn’t something to hide her brand though.</p><p>Her Director pulled the clingy scarf from her cheek and said, “I’m waiting for there to be a break.”</p><p>“What, so you can play?”</p><p>“No, to double check with Fitzherbert that we can step out.”</p><p>Another cheer went up from a couple as another crack sent the ball zooming to the right. A cluster of hanging ivy pots brushed over her hood and blocked Cass from seeing if the ball was caught or bounced. She said, “And how are you going to get his attention from this jungle?”</p><p>Her rear guard spoke up and offered, “Sir, I can step out and try to signal the Captain for you.”</p><p>Her Director agreed and it wasn’t long before they were given the signal and she was being herded to the door.</p><p>The next cheer was all the louder without the glass barrier. And between that and the smell of grass, blinding expanse of the cloudless sky and feel of summer wind exhaling with her, she missed her Director’s muttered warning.</p><p>Cass scowled and tried to rip her hand away when he reached for it, but his broad fingers were already locked through hers—their arms likewise entwined. The guard on her other side at least had the decency to grip her upper arm in the traditional hostile fashion. Her Director’s hold… it was a new level of sneaky. And it <em>wouldn’t</em> be happening again.</p><p>The scenery stole her attention away again.</p><p>Cass took it all in as the four of them made their way across the pearly veranda to the opposite side of the sun-room. The grounds were as neat as ever with no bold green grass blade or bush leaf standing above their peers. Pink roses on the bushes that bordered the back wall were in full blossom and welcoming to each bee that stopped by for a visit. The gardens had never been lovelier—especially with one of her own black rocks sitting skewered straight up from the ground. Its sparkling peak ended at a height none of the cricket players reached, its base was as wide around as ten oak trunks put together. The months-dormant rock cared not for being in the player’s way or getting hit by the occasional ball, it only sat. Proud. Strong. And stuck within the walls of the palace like its creator.</p><p>It was beautiful. But while it was her favorite, it wasn’t the only beautiful thing in the gardens.</p><p>There were only a few batters and therefore minutes left in the game’s first inning before the break—and every second of it was glorious.</p><p>The idea of seeing the Princess play had been deplorable at best, but now seeing her in action? Cass had never laughed so hard.</p><p>She’d known her former boss had never heard of, seen, or played Cricket in the years she’d worked for her, and it seemed it hadn’t changed in the year and a half she’d been gone. Through her laughter she asked no one in particular, “What bonehead made her the skipper?”</p><p>It was a wonder the blonde was on the team at all. Looking like a sugar-filled toddler, the barefoot Princess’ bulbous braid swung about gathering dirt with the rest of her as she chased the ball around even when she was in the position of the batter. Over the laughter and encouraging cheers of the opposing team, the Princess consoled her groaning and shouting teammates by shouting back, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it!”</p><p>Cass’ laughing grew to snorting and breathless level. She prayed to anyone listening that no one ever show the Princess a rule book.</p><p>After what had to be the millionth head over heels tumble that managed to take out most of her team, the Princess’ smile was finally wiped away. Cassandra was afraid her own was going to split her face so bad she’d need stitches. </p><p>The scorer from the Princess’ team called out at Fitzherbert’s request that they had reached one-hundred and four runs and lost three wickets, while Fitzherbert’s was standing at two-hundred and thirty-six runs and lost one wicket.</p><p>When Fitzherbert crossed to huddle up with the scorer, Lance, who was the next up to bat on their team, was also all smiles as he called out, “Don’t you cheat on that card for her, Eugene!”</p><p>She nearly shouted her agreement.</p><p>Finally. The Princess was finally losing something. Was it possible to die of an abundance of joy? To say that Cass was glad she’d lost the battle with her father in the office was an understatement. She only wished they’d come earlier.</p><p>Her Director was already looking down at her, a lopsided small smile on his face, when she said, “Congratulations; You finally had a good idea.”</p><p>His smile dropped faster than a led balloon. And though her spirit was anything but damped, so did hers when the Princess called out to her next batter.</p><p>“You’re up next, Varian!”</p><p>Did she just say…?</p><p>The lanky teen that was still more bangs than muscles, ran out onto the pitch and took his place to face off against Fitzherbert—now the bowler—as the new striker.</p><p><em>Varian…</em> She wasn’t sure if the name had only been whispered within the core of her power or if it also fell from her lips. But either way, the flickering devices on her made her desire known.</p><p>The slick hand in her own tightened. She kept her head forward but met her Director’s side-eye from under her hood. Her own eyes reflected in his pupils. His hand tightened even more. She might soon have two bad ones. At present, she couldn’t find the will to care.</p><p>
  <em>Varian…</em>
</p><p>Bat and ball collided with each other with another sound smack and started the next run. But she couldn’t find it in her to care about the details of the round.</p><p>
  <em>Varian…</em>
</p><p>The game reached its midway break soon enough. Before the crowd could be up and about no doubt seeking the chamber pot, her Director led her forward saying, “We’ve watched enough.”</p><p>She hadn’t. She had a feeling the second half would be much much more interesting.</p><p>They hadn’t made it around the first corner of the jutting sun-room when two of the star players caught sight of her. The youngest started running, waving, and called out, “Cassie!”</p><p>Soon both the alchemist and the Princess were racing up the steps. Straight to her.</p><p>
  <em>Varian.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rapunzel. </em>
</p><p>Her key and her sundrop. Both in front of her. A smile stretched across her face. What a perfect day.</p><p>Both Cass and Varian jolted when he reached the top of the veranda. Her cause: The guard behind her who pulled her back the step she’d taken by her waist chain. The alchemist’s cause: The chains and devices of his own making binding her form. She knew because his jaw dropped at the exact moment his eyes reached the set up around her middle. That horror continued to build in his eyes as they lingered on the rest of the devices. She did nothing to stop him from looking. She even lifted her chin to let him better see the one on her neck. He’d seen them before anyway.</p><p>The teen took a shuddering breath and it was when he took another step forward, that her Director intervened.</p><p>His arm shot out and he said to the pair, “That’s close enough.”</p><p>They hadn’t reached the three-meter distance that was required, but Varian leapt back a step nonetheless.</p><p>Both her Director and the guard at her side turned their focus on her. The one at her back had yet to let go of her chain.</p><p>Varian wiped at the sweat leaking down his temples and stammered for a good ten seconds before the Princess squeezed his shoulder and jumped in.</p><p>“It’s so good to see you guys,” She said, the dirt still falling in clumps from her hair and once-purple dress. “Are you gonna stay for the second half?”</p><p>“No, we were only stopping by before lunch,” Her Director said with a smile too tight to be real. He nodded to the field. “Quite the game!”</p><p>Varian got a hold of his tongue and said, “Yeah ah, cricket’s not— not really my forte.”</p><p>Rapunzel hummed along with the wind. “I think we just needed the warm up. We’ll take ‘em by surprise next half!”</p><p>No one agreed or disagreed. Only the rustling of the trees and the buzzing of a passing bee filled the air.</p><p>Cass kept her breathing nice and even while calling inward. <em>Give me one single rock. Straight and true through the arm over mine. Just one.</em></p><p>“Hey!” Varian cried, “Maybe—maybe you guys could play with us for the second half? Or even instead of, I—I wouldn’t mind taking a break, if you wanted… to.”</p><p>The Princess and her Director both kept those pasted on smiles in place and he said, “We’re going to have to pass on that.”</p><p>All the grips on her tightened as though daring her to say anything to the contrary.</p><p>Rapunzel brushed a few pieces of grass that’d hitched a ride on Varian’s vest and said, “Yeah, maybe when the weather’s better!”</p><p>A family of birds tweeted together from a nearby nest and the mother’s feathers reflected the sun’s uninhibited rays and the deepest blue of the sky as she flew past on the breeze with her baby’s wiggling meal.</p><p>Varian muttered to his skipper, “You wanna wait for a thunderstorm?”</p><p>No rock was coming. Her prizes were too far from her reach. And her Director was continuing to watch her as a coyote would a coiled snake all the while nudging her like he expected her to make conversation with the pair.</p><p>After another silent minute, Varian ventured beyond the small talk. “I’m sorry to hear about your cottage burning down. My dad and I are helping with some of the—the repairs.”</p><p>Cass had everyone’s attention when she said, “I was surprised your dad wasn’t in the mob. I would’ve expected he was the organizer.”</p><p>The ripple of red that crossed both their faces was worth her Director jumping back in with, “Well, we need to get to our lunch now. Good luck in the second half!”</p><p>He took a step in the direction of the sun-room but Cass stayed rooted to her spot.</p><p>The way the Princess was looking at her… as though she was only a ghost of someone she’d once valued. Once looked up to. Someone who’d fallen so far from her graces and was beyond her rescue.</p><p>Cass didn’t care. She just studied her in return.</p><p>When her Director and guards tugged her hard enough to have no choice but to lurch forward and follow their lead, only then did she look away.</p><p>She didn’t look back at the earth-shaking rumble and startled cries coming from the garden turned playing field. She didn’t even look around when her guards began to question her and rush her inside.</p><p>She just smiled and kept looking forward as the light on her cuffs, the power within her, and the giant rock in the garden settled back into her core.</p><p>Only then did she spare a single look back at the Princess and the alchemist gaping on the terrace. She let her power spark her eyes just as a final reminder, to them and to herself, of just who she was.</p><p>As she was hurried down the halls to the suite, she smiled up at her Director and said, “We should see those two more often.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I read up on cricket as much as I could and watched videos but I have no expert knowledge on the sport so please forgive me if any of that was inaccurate.<br/>Also, I burned the tips of my fingers while draining boiling water for dinner yesterday so, that's why I was late with this update, so sorry.<br/>Again super sorry it got kinda weird at the end, I'm exhausted. I might rewrite the ending of this chapter at some point so maybe keep an eye on it if you'd like.</p><p>See y'all next chapter for... "The Reaching"</p><p>***UPDATE ON CHAPTER 13 as of 9-22-20: I apologize for the long wait, the chapter is now completed and I will post it Saturday. See y'all then!***</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Reaching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the wait and if I'm hopping around in time to much: This chapter is set in about late August.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entire week after the cricket match, the old adage “Be careful what you wish for” haunted Cassandra.</p><p>She didn’t see Varian again. Didn’t even catch a passing word about the young inventor from any of the gossips she’d pass in the palace. And not even when she pressed every one of the Captain’s buttons on when the kid would be visiting again.</p><p>When her Director scolded her for the questioning, she only whispered to her squirming focus, “Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end of an interrogation, is it Fish Skin?”</p><p>He didn’t give. And so, she accepted that her key was out of reach for now.</p><p>But she did see the Princess again. Several times a day in fact. Around every hallway corner, column, and candelabra. The only space she was safe from her stalker was the Captain’s office. But, their suite—for some harebrained reason—was the place the Princess was bold enough to make her presence known. Though not directly.</p><p>No, much like her sorry guise as a guard back at the cottage, the Princess showed up in an array of fake roles. Everything from her wardrobe to her voice was altered each attempted visit. And that’s all they ever were: Attempts.</p><p>The first time the Princess showed up was as the world renown painter, The Giovanni. Mustache and all.</p><p>“I am here by commission of la Princessa’ to paint your—how do you say—portraits; two of them! There are two in here, yes?” The blonde—well, curly brunette at the moment under that wooly… was that a dyed fleece blanket? —had spotted Cass picking at her beans in the dining room and beamed. She shifted the pile of large canvases and paints in her arms and stepped around the wall of Director in her way. “Ah, most excellent! I will get started right away then—”</p><p>Cass’ Director didn’t let the Princess set those still free and wiggly toes onto the bare tile of the sitting room. “I’m sorry <em>The Giovanni</em>,” He’d said, tossing a look over the Princess’ head to Cass. “But we can’t have visitors here.”</p><p>“But I—!” The Princess’ inked on mustache wobbled for the whole two seconds before the door was shut in her face.</p><p>The second time the Princess came as a maid amongst three others, her hair stuffed up in that lumpy brown wig Cass recognized as the Princess’ old “Miss Misty” disguise. She hadn’t even bothered to pin the wobbling thing in place.</p><p>Her Director allowed the three true maids in but kept the fourth one at the door.</p><p>From the dining table—she had no idea how the Princess had figured out her dining schedule— Cass met the wide-eyed gaze of the waving “maid” before continuing to build the fourth level of a card house.</p><p>Her Director humored the Princess by saying he hadn’t seen her around before.</p><p>The Princess squeaked out that she was only temporary and had been tasked by Mrs. Crowley to fill in some gaps.</p><p>Her Director hummed low in his throat then closed the door with a, “Nice try, Your Highness.”</p><p>“Why won’t you let her in?” Cass asked him that time, “I am only here for <em>her</em> after all, aren’t I?”</p><p>Massaging his temples and flopping onto the sofa was his only response.</p><p>Sous chef, chimney sweep, window washer, pest control specialist, indoor lamp-lighter—though the palace employed no such role— even the “royal medic himself” all visited their suite that week. All played by the Sun-splotch. It was almost cute. It might’ve even been fun if her Director ever let the Princess stay. Cass was so in need of some fun.</p><p>And she really just needed some alone time with the Princess. One-on-one, uninterrupted, bonding alone time. The opal was beginning to demand it.</p><p>But she continued to wait. Cassandra wasn’t sure how much more waiting she could endure as the Moonstone was beginning to pain her more than her hand and knee put together. On their worst days.</p><p>But she waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited some more.</p><p>She didn’t have the freedom or the opportunity to do otherwise.</p>
<hr/><p>For the past ten minutes, this eyelash-sized black spider hadn’t moved. Didn’t stretch, didn’t curl up, didn’t twitch. And neither did she.</p><p>Her Director said something to her that she let the dusty air do away with.</p><p>Yet, as though awoken by the dull words, the spider leapt into action.</p><p>Cass didn’t.</p><p>Scurrying up the half-wall half-pane corner of the dining room window, the spider reached eye-level with Cass and stopped again. He still had her full attention. In the past ten minutes she hadn’t and she wouldn’t look beyond the creature to the outside world; It was a place that had nothing to do with her anymore.</p><p>Cass shifted to rest her chin on her good hand and traced the yawning keyhole on the window’s silver padlock. Her shaking fingers— healing but still flatter and with more angles than her others— were nearly keylike. But they wouldn’t fit. She held them up in the light, flexed them in tiny increments. They weren’t of any use for anything. But they were healing; She could hold her spoon at meal times with it now— for a few bites.</p><p>The spider in the corner re-grabbed her attention. The trick-harp in the sitting room should’ve begun playing a stirring tune as the creature began to zig-zag from corner to corner leaving a trail of glistening web behind. The little thing taunted Cassandra with playing out the adventure of its life in front of her. She expected to see a little pink tongue raspberried out of its body next.</p><p>There was a rap at the door before it opened and Cass braced herself for that daily bark of—</p><p>“Afternoon, dragon family!”</p><p>Oh <em>no. No. </em>Why couldn’t it have been the guards coming to shove her into the wall? It would’ve been far less painful.</p><p>“Captain,” Her Director greeted—cheerily for some insane reason—from behind her at the freshly waxed dining table, “What brings you by? I thought you’d be at the statue unveiling right about now.”</p><p>Cass turned to her Director. A new statue was news to her. Though to ask would imply that she cared and, as it was most likely to be of Her Royal Haughtiness, she couldn’t care less. But seeing the Captain swagger over with an air of excessive joy, she couldn’t help but say, “Don’t believe it, Director. It’s just the Princess in her worst disguise yet.” She nodded to the Captain.  “Hope Crowley won’t mind that you used one of her scrap mops for a wig this time.”</p><p>“Count yourself lucky that I am short on time and far too curious, Mushroom-top, because hair slamming is one battle you would never beat me in.” He plopped down on a chair on the far side of the table and asked her Director, “Rapunzel’s been here?”</p><p>Her Director set his book down and sailed a bowl of grapes over to the Captain. “Oh, she’s tried to stop by for a visit two or eight times…”</p><p>“Huh,” Fitzherbert said putting a juicy-plump grape in his mouth, gaze not lifting from the empty stem he was rubbing between his fingers. “Well that’s more than she and I’ve visited in the past seven months.”</p><p>That was also news to her. Cass went back to watching the daring spider and the lock. The creature had progressed to weaving a vertical layer now. Most of this construction he was doing upside down. The showoff. “What about the cricket match? Seemed like a date to me. I’m sure your adoring court fans thought the same.”</p><p>“Yes, well we do have to keep up public appearance. Wouldn’t want the gossip in the palace to start spreading truths about royal issues now.” The bowl scraped back across the table. “But moving on past my tragic personal life, I have an assignment that is of the utmost importance and I could really use your assistance with, O Wise-advising-one.”</p><p>“I’m all ears,” Her Director said.</p><p>The spider continued to make its lines, around and around, section to section, no bad hand or leg to hinder his mission. Uncaring for the conversation… that wasn’t happening.</p><p>Cass looked back to see the two men in a stare off. Fitzherbert cast a glance from her to the door and back. When her Director hummed in an apparent understanding that sent the Captain nodding ever so slowly and emphatically, she wondered that the two hadn’t just taken some of the candlestick maker’s funny-bark.</p><p>“Yes, a <em>really</em> important <em>assignment</em>, out in the East Ballroom. The assignment that we previously discussed,” Fitzherbert said at the speed of his nodding. “Time sensitive.”</p><p>Her Director straightened in his chair and looked anywhere else in the corner room but at her. “I see. When?”</p><p>“Five o’clock should about do it,” Fitzherbert said and stabbed his finger on a dot in the table’s woodwork.</p><p>Cass had a hundred questions. Most importantly, “Does this have something to do with me?”</p><p>“Nope, just work, Muffin-head,” Fitzherbert was too quick to say and jump to his feet.</p><p>“I will be at your disposal, Captain.” Her Director stood as well and led the way to the door. “We don’t need to discuss this now.”</p><p>“Eccellenti, my job here is done,” The Captain said from the echoing entryway, “Wear your best and I look forward to seeing your snarling faces tomorrow evening!”</p><p>The spider had already added a third layer and was working on a fourth. Though the width of the web could fit in her palm, she felt she had somehow just been caught up in it.</p><p>Her Director returned and came over to extend the bowl of grapes—well more stems than grapes now— in offering. Munching on one, he said, “Well you should be happy now; That news meant you’ll get a second day where you only see Fitzherbert for about an hour.”</p><p>Cass ate a grape and smushed the spider in the corner. Bright flavor burst in her mouth in the same fashion the spider’s blood burst against her thumb and the wall. She said with a grin, “Beyond happy.”</p>
<hr/><p>The next day nothing could remove the glower from her face.</p><p>Her chains jingling with every step, the maids on the staircases and in the middle and upper halls not reacting in the slightest to her presence, the fact that she hadn’t slept a wink last night thanks to her complaining and writhing magic, and every art work either <em>of</em> or <em>by</em> the Princess that she—and her three-man escort—passed all worked together to put Cass in a foul mood.</p><p>When they climbed yet another staircase and her knee nearly buckled on the next stair, she snapped at the man at her side yet <em>again</em> holding her hand, “Why are we up here? Fitzherbert said the East Ballroom. That’s on the <em>first</em> level in case you’ve forgotten.”</p><p>At least her tone got one dusting maid to go deer-eyed and flee.</p><p>“We’re taking the scenic route,” Her Director said, turning them down a humid, windowed, hallway. “See; There’s a vase, and there’s another one exactly identical to it, and there’s a painting of a king we never knew—”</p><p>“You’re not funny, Director. Just take us to where we’re supposed to be already.”</p><p>Cass had no clue why a goofy grin spread across his face.</p><p>She snapped, “What?”</p><p>He just kept grinning.</p><p>Her teeth were set on greater edge. If he didn’t tell her in two seconds…</p><p>Still grinning like he knew a secret only he and maybe the purple banners up in the rafters were privy to, he said, “Fitzherbert’s gonna be touched to hear you were so anxious to see him.”</p><p>At her halt, her rear guard’s boots screeched on the tile in order to avoid collision.</p><p>Cass swallowed a rush of pre-bile saliva. Her. Anxious to see Fitzherbert. That concept— those <em>words</em> had to be the worst, the most despicable, and the most incomprehensible in any human tongue.</p><p>But then again… “Give me back my sword and I’ll show you just how anxious.”</p><p>They resumed their stroll without sightseeing commentary or talk of any kind. She would’ve thought her escort to be ignoring her altogether if not for the guard beside her that slid the wide strap of her black shirt back onto her shoulder—back off of her brand. For the third time this outing.</p><p>Cassandra scowled at the man. Let it never be said her guards weren’t attentive. Only her chains prevented her from showing appreciation for their hard work.</p><p>As the silence continued, she paid better attention to where they were. Their steps had turned from clops to thumps as the checkered tiles were overcome by a purple rug. Ceiling-high windows lined the left of the hall and golden framed purple-filled doors lined the opposite side. Cass spotted what appeared to be a painted green vine running along the wall and down around a far corner, but she knew better. The leaves on the “vine” were actually three tiny toes as green as their owner. This art trail was only in one spot of the castle. This couldn’t be right.</p><p>She shattered the silence, “Are you taking me to the Princess’ room?”</p><p>“Heavens no,” Her Director said, practically bristled, “We’re passing by, not going to it.”</p><p>She knew she wasn’t allowed down the Royal wings but since he was so against it… “And why not? Since you haven’t let her visit us, maybe it’d be good to go pay our respects to the Princess in her own suite.”</p><p>A side-eye was sent her way then over her head to her guards and lingered on the halberd-bearing guards along the hall. Her Director said, “’Good’ isn’t the word I’d use in regards to watching you be killed.”</p><p>“Is that their orders? To kill me on sight?”</p><p>“Should you enter, yes. That’s why we’re not going down there. And…” A scratched up golden pocket watch she’d seen all her life was pulled from his jacket. “… we’re done with our exploring anyway. C’mon, time to go meet your pal.”</p>
<hr/><p>Cassandra’s mood only improved in its level of foulness after her knee gave out on the last flight of stairs. The men at her sides kept her from falling victim to the marble but the damage was already done to her pride. Her Director asking a dozen times if she was okay while two handmaidens she knew looked on, only made it worse.</p><p>“Shut up already, I just tripped,” She’d snarled and forced her knee to cooperate for the remaining stairs. It was all she could do not to bite her Director’s hand off when at last they arrived at the golden doors to the East Ballroom and he affixed her shirt back onto her shoulder himself.</p><p>The buttons on his uniform, the light coming through the crack of the door, and his chocolate-brown eyes—for some reason she was in no mood to figure out— all shone as he asked, “Are you ready?”</p><p>To be stuck in a room breathing the same air as the Rear that’d tortured her? Never. But they were already walking through the double doors so she said, “The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can lock me back up and let me have some peace and quiet—”</p><p>Confetti, streamers, and a choir of voices exploded, “Surprise!”</p><p>The windowless cherry-wood ballroom was golden in the presence of a dozen lit candelabras and the three Cheshire’s before her. The rich scents of honey and red wine gave the impression that this was a formal affair but neither the host or the other guests were in formal attire. The expansive banquet table was the best dressed with golden tri-folded napkins filling the spaces between five place settings and a matching runner leading down to a little mound at the far end that had to be some kind of cake. All of it could’ve been excused as a simple dinner if not for the noisy hand-painted yellow banner hanging above it all that read, <em>HAPPY BIRTHDAY CASSANDRA!</em></p><p>It wasn’t her birthday. Not for another two weeks. But still the sentiment was echoed by Rapunzel—the bouncing host of the party—who rushed forward, practically squealing, “Happy birthday, Cass!”</p><p>She expected her Director or her guards to stop the Princess when she got too close. But they didn’t. Their grip turned bruising, but they actually let Rapunzel tackle her in a suffocating hug.</p><p>They at least allowed Cass the leeway to wrench out of it and took the step back with her. Her Director kept the Princess from following.</p><p>Rapunzel wasn’t offended. She only glowed all the more while the boys—Lance and Fitzherbert who was still in his Captain’s uniform—behind her also echoed the sentiment.</p><p>Cass looked around at all the joyous faces, fisted her chained hands, and her tone was cold enough to dim the Sun-splotch as she asked, “Are you serious?”</p><p>“Of course we are, Cass,” Rapunzel said, looking for all the world like she was itching to hug her again. “It’s your birthday! What kind of friends would we be if we didn't celebrate your night?”</p><p>Not a hint of surprise or reluctance showed in her Director’s face and that didn’t surprise her. He was an expert at this betrayal thing by now.</p><p>“Oh yay, I love parties!” Cassandra said, mimicking the Princess’ rosy, dopy, expression. Then she let it fall and turned back for the door.</p><p>Her Director turned her back the step she’d taken and muttered in her ear, “We’re staying.”</p><p>And he actually meant it. For an entire half hour, he made her listen to the blonde and her minions blabber on about anything and everything like they were still the best of friends, like they still cared about each other, like Cass wasn’t standing before her in chains.</p><p>That was a detail the Princess’ eyes always skipped right over. The very person, the very reason she was in this situation, wouldn’t even acknowledge the situation was happening. Rapunzel was truly something else.</p><p>At least when they sat down to dinner—which comprised of turkey legs brined in her favorite apple cider mixture, piles of potatoes; cheesy, spicy, and of every other variety, and baskets of rosemary bread with fresh mounds of butter—she was relieved of some of her binds.</p><p>After her Director had heaped the steaming food on their plates—hers first—she’d asked, “Let me guess; That’s the second part to this shabby birthday surprise? I’m supposed to eat like a dog?”</p><p>Her waist chain being removed was the only sound in the room until Lance started up small talk with, “So is caviar like an official banquet only thing, or can Caviar Lance still be a thing and live out his dreams at my party?”</p><p>She still wasn’t free. Her wrists remained linked together and her Director kept the excess wrapped around his hand beneath the table. He moved with her every bite.</p><p>She was also sandwiched between him and the Captain and backed by her two guards. Of course, with the Princess sitting directly across from her and Cass’ throwable about-skull-cracking-weight plate, she supposed she understood the precautions. She also understood why they hadn’t supplied her with a knife for her meat. They were wise to do so.</p><p>All in all, it was a boring party. There was no music, the only guest she didn’t hate she didn’t care to talk to, more than a few times her Director didn’t move with her in time to save a bite of her falling food, and that was the only part to the party. It was just a dinner. Halfway through, a splitting headache brought Cass the idea that instead of Captain Idiot, Rapunzel should’ve been the one last fall to plan Cass’ interrogations. A couple hours of this and she might’ve parted with the Moonstone.</p><p>At one point of the evening, as though reading her thoughts or maybe just her silence, Rapunzel tried to bring Cass in on the conversation for the millionth time by explaining, “We were originally going to have a joust and archery tournament tonight but—”</p><p>“But let me guess,” Cass responded for the first time, “You gave up because it was too much trouble to get something that I might actually enjoy, hm?”</p><p>The Princess drooping like the wax on the tables’ candles was the highlight of the night. Cass didn’t even mind the under the table kick to the shin she received from her Director for it. Everyone jumping in their seats when her spoon dropped to her still full plate with a clang was just a bonus.</p><p>“I’m done,” She growled to her Director.</p><p>He actually abandoned his turkey mid-teeth-sinking-bite, re-secured her waist system, and stood. But so had the Princess.</p><p>“Can you at least stay for cake?” Rapunzel pled; eyes as big as the ring of red spice sauce around her mouth. “Please?”</p><p>The cake at the end of the table was bigger than Cass had thought and far more complex.</p><p>Four round layers frosted in alternating grey and Guard red towered before her. Candy swords and grey crestless sheaths as big as her thumb bordered the red layers while wedged chips of imitation black-blue rocks bordered the grey. And at the top, twenty-four stubby white candles ringed a large halberd-shaped twenty-fifth one propped up by a hunk of black-blue rock. Cass didn’t miss the miniature wax owl perched on a branch sprouting from the wood of the halberd.</p><p>Rapunzel was back to embodying a sunbeam on the other side of the table. She brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and asked, “Do you like it? I designed it myself. Oh, and I also made the topper. Owl’s tiny eyes were really hard to get just right.”</p><p>This cake was a work of art. It was her. It was everything she liked. Everything she was and enjoyed.</p><p>It was everything she had stripped away from her by the people in that room and could never have again.</p><p>She hated it with everything left in her. But she didn’t answer the Princess.</p><p>When the blonde lit up the cake and told her, “Make a wish!” Cass didn’t look at the cake. She didn’t look at the others gathered around waiting. She had eyes only for the Sundrop before her. She didn’t look away as she wished for the only thing she wanted now… and blew.</p>
<hr/><p>Two weeks passed, her birthday came and went, and Cass didn’t touch a single one of her presents. She looked them over of course, but anything she might’ve been given that was of any actual interest or use would’ve been tossed out by her Director’s preliminary snooping.</p><p>What was left was now just gathering dust along with her.</p><p>Lance had given her a bag of kettle corn that reached her waist when standing.</p><p>The Captain had given her a black leather journal with a few loose nubs of charcoal.</p><p>Rapunzel had given her new silk pajamas and some type of painting that she didn’t bother to look at as she’d chucked it out of her room—smashing a lamp in the main room in the process—the second she’d seen the canvas.</p><p>Her Director’s gifts she never received. He’d told her he had two of them the night they got back from the party. “Do you want my presents now or on your birthday?” He’d asked.</p><p>“Neither,” She’d said to the wall from her bed and he’d actually honored her wishes. For once.</p><p>The one gift she did accept was from Varian. Her captor by design. His gift was a humble little tin-can that contained a note written on the inside of the lid and green glop. The note said it was salve to heal the irritation of her skin. Besides that, all the note had said was, <em>I’m so sorry.</em> She kept the lid only to keep the salve from drying out once she was done bathing in it.</p><p>The potent mint goo hadn’t coerced any of her cuffs into sliding off, no matter how much she slathered on. But less importantly, it did soothe her chaffed skin. She was out of the gunk by the second day. She supposed she’d have to wait for her next birthday to get some more.</p><p>Waiting. Another whole year. In prison. For salve. For her manacles. Twisting the biting fiends while sitting cross-legged on her too perfect bed, Cass frowned. She certainly had a lot to look forward to.</p><p>Maybe it’d all become a regular occurrence: Try and fail to find relief, endure guard checks and Fitzherbert’s existence, try and fail to find an opportunity to get what was rightfully hers, endure the Princess’ throwing her a bone in the form of a party she didn’t even want, try and fail some more, endure the Princess’ existence, slowly bleed or be jabbed to death thanks to the cuffs, get a tin with a cup-worth of salve, and try and fail some more. Repeat every year for the rest of her life.</p><p>Cass nearly bit through her lip as the Moonstone spiked. This wasn’t how her life was meant to be. It was a waste. And now, she would never achieve her destiny.</p><p>She had one person to thank most for that. But it didn’t matter. A year in this hell was quickly approaching. And she couldn’t do anything about it.</p><p>The words spoken to her by her former ‘ally’ came to mind, <em>“Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.</em><em>” </em> A riddle of words spoken to her in a haze of agony and sleep deprivation and in a moment where the tiniest drop of kindness and hope was as good as an ocean. Hallucination or not, they’d stuck with her. But she couldn’t do anything about that either.</p><p>Obtaining the Sun-drop, her destiny, her rightful power, the freedom that came with it, was subject first to the freedom to move. And it would take a lot more than wishing on a birthday candle to obtain that.</p><p>She might as well start the new count now: One year down, a lifetime to go.</p><p>Cass flopped onto her back… and her pillow crackled like it was made of paper and not feathers.</p><p>She didn’t dare check.</p><p>A clattering of dishes came from just around her wall in the dining room and her Director’s lackadaisical humming filled the silence in-between the cleanup… but it wasn’t clear if he had a lot more work to do or…</p><p>The clattering stopped and the candles of the chandelier were extinguished. Her Director walked into her room and did the same with her candle.</p><p>The peppery gravy from dinner and a protest rose in her throat but Cass didn’t avoid the kiss he planted on her forehead; she didn’t dare let her pillow make that sound again.</p><p>“Good night, Cassandra,” He said pulling back with a star smile. “The Captain and I have some actual work to catch up on tomorrow so I’ll see you bright and early.”</p><p>She returned the smile—though it felt like more of a grimace. He knew by now not to wait for a reply and headed off to his cave.</p><p>Once his door rumbled shut, she lifted her pillow… and smiled for real.</p><p>Tied on a piece of twine lay a notecard and three objects—two silver and one gold—with little slip notes of their own.</p><p>The notecard simply read:</p><p>
  <em>Happy Birthday Dear </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Enjoy the gifts</em>
</p><p>The little slip on the first silver object read: <em>Chains</em></p><p>The second slip on the second silver object read: <em>Window</em></p><p>And the third, the gold one, Cass already knew as she used to possess a copy of her own for years.</p><p>The words drifted to her once more, said with as much intensity as if spoken anew, “Freedom will never truly be yours <em>until the two stones Belong. To. One.”</em> </p><p>Cass didn’t waste another second as she snatched up the three keys and set to work.</p>
<hr/><p>That night there was a storm. No rain, just the cover of thunder and the occasional spotlights of lightning to evade. But the thick hooded cloak that ended at her feet insured she’d be hidden from potential eyes and raindrops alike. She hoped her Director wouldn’t mind that his cloak took a break from resting on the sofa to take a night stroll with her. But she wouldn’t be put out if he did mind.</p><p>While Cass crept along the leaf and dirt covered ledges, corners, the sky rumbled its unrest. It aided in masking the sound of her landing as she swung up onto the highest balcony of the palace.</p><p>The next lightning bolt didn’t appear until she’d entered through the golden window of her destination. The bolt threw her shadow over the Princess’ bed.</p><p>Rapunzel remained deaf to the storm, a delicate snore falling from her rosebud lips.</p><p>Completely oblivious, completely defenseless.</p><p>Cass glided closer and made sure the guard’s shadows cast from the hallway’s glow under the princess’ door stayed where they were—as well as the limp lizard on the nightstand.</p><p>The suite—still full of every kind of knickknack and painted in every hue Cass could think of—sat still and free of any secret eyes.</p><p>They were alone.</p><p>Cassandra leaned over her target and braced herself on the cool purple sheets on either side of the Sun-splotches’ nightgown-clad shoulders. The princess gave a small hum and shifted a tired arm to curve around her head. The motion didn’t stop Cass from sliding her rock out. And the sleepy shifting made her prize that much more accessible.</p><p>Both the room and her power glowed with the next flash of lightening. Everything on the bed, even that impossibly long and bright yellow hair was bathed in blue. She could feel the pull of the Sundrop right below her. Her rightful power called. Her freedom lay right beneath her spike. The heart beating beside the drop was the only thing in her way. But not any longer.</p><p>Cass ignored the twitch from the Princess as the tip of her rock drew the tiniest bead of blood. But she couldn’t ignore the hissing whisper that ripped through the dark.</p><p>
  <em>“What do you think you’re doing?”</em>
</p><p>Her twin was standing, gaping, on the other side of the broad bed. Her gloved hand went for the sword that wasn’t over her shoulder.</p><p>Cass narrowed her eyes at the motion and breathed back, “What does it look like?”</p><p>“It looks like you’re signing your own death warrant.” The twin’s dark hair swished wildly as she glanced between the sleeping Princess and the guarded door. “Put that away and get back to the suite before someone sees you!”</p><p>Cass’ body was rocking, pulsing wildly in time with the opal so like a bird desperate to be free of its cage. More than her freedom, her revenge, her <em>victory</em> was right here.</p><p>
  <em>…Until the two stones belong to one.</em>
</p><p>Once the Sundrop was in her hands, no one would ever be a threat to her again. There would be nothing, no one, that could ever contain or confine her to the forgotten shadows ever again.</p><p>No. More. Waiting.</p><p>She whispered, “I’m getting what I came for.”</p><p>“She’s our best friend—!”</p><p>“<em>Quiet</em>.” Cass aimed her spike at the twin and everything in the room flashed with another passing bolt of lightning. “She’s nothing to me now but an obstacle.”</p><p>Cass returned the rock to hover over the still drooling Princess. She tightened her grip. Only a few jabs into the fragile creamy chest, then she’d lift the organ containing her stone out and—</p><p>Intense gray eyes—somehow both furious and terrified at the same time—were boring into hers and blocking her view.</p><p>Cass’ lip curled in preparation to order her twin to move but she spoke first.</p><p>“Listen to me,” The twin said, “I know Tiri said getting the stones is your destiny. I’m not going to argue the truth of that claim with you right now. But what’s this destiny worth if you achieve it through <em>murder?”</em></p><p><em>Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.</em> Cass thought of those three sentencing words—<em>Incarceration for life</em>—that the King had boomed at her trial and in many of her nightmares since. She looked at the glowing MRDs on her irritated wrists. “It’s about more than just that now. I have to—I—I <em>need</em> to do this.”</p><p>Her twin hovered a hand over Cass’ heart. “You stand to lose far more than you stand to gain.”</p><p>Thunder rumbled outside and shook the windows. Cassandra’s grip on her spike grew slick. She couldn’t possibly lose more… could she? She started, “I couldn’t—”</p><p>A soft sighing hum had both Cass and her twin looking down at the Princess. The stirring Princess.</p><p>Her twin vanished with one final hissed urging, <em>“Go.”</em></p><p>The Princess began blindly patting around the bed for her warm sheets that had pooled around her waist. Searching, seeking, and by the time she cracked opened a bleary eye to find the edge of the covering and pull it up over her small shoulders, Cass was already opening the window.</p><p>Maybe it was the squeaky latch that gave her away, or maybe the clearer roar of thunder that stampeded into the room but she’d just made it onto the balcony and was turning to shut the gilded panes back when Rapunzel groggily called, “Cass?”</p><p>She froze. She had her hood up and it was deep enough to hide her hair, her features, but she supposed there weren’t many other people in the world with bright blue streaked MRDs on them.</p><p>“How did you—? What are you doing here? Did—” The Princess slid her legs around to sit on the edge of the mattress, loose hair angled every which-a-ways. “Did you want to talk?”</p><p>Cassandra stepped back from the window and kept the folds of her cloak sealed. Kept the rock still protruding from her arm from all view. “I changed my mind,” She said in a lull of thunder, “Go back to sleep, Rapunzel.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure how or why, but for some reason she ended up back at her Director’s suite. She must not’ve been thinking. Definitely. She had not been thinking. That was the only possible conclusion. That or she was undeniably, diagnosably, insane.</p><p>The room that’d been dark upon her exit was now a beacon. Every candle in the dining room’s chandelier and on every surface was lit and quivered upon her re-entry through the window. She didn’t close it behind her.</p><p>Her Director stopped in his tracks to the front door and abandoned buttoning up his uniform jacket. Cass wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam coming out of his ears as he stomped over to her.</p><p>He pinned her with a burning glare and stalked past to shut and lock the window before grabbing her by the shoulders and seething, “Where on earth have you been?”</p><p>She’d been right there. Right there. The Sundrop and her biggest target. They’d been right under her… and she hadn’t done a thing. She’d missed the chance handed to her on a silver platter.</p><p>Her Director shoved her hood off. “Don’t tune me out. Where did you go? What did you do?”</p><p>She knocked his grip off and dumped the cloak on the table. “Relax, I just stepped out.”</p><p><em>“Relax?</em> I was on my way to lead a hunt for you—a hunt that would’ve ended in your execution, Cassandra!”</p><p>“Sorry to spoil your fun by returning then.”</p><p>That vein in his forehead that always bulged when he was about to blow his top at some neglectful guard appeared.</p><p>Cass waited for the explosion.</p><p>It didn’t come.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable,” Was all he growled before he cut a glance at the door and took a deep breath. “How did you get out?”</p><p>“Birthday magic.”</p><p>The vein was back. “Very funny,” He said with a jerk of his chin, “Up against the wall.”</p><p>She didn’t comply.</p><p>For the first time, her Director was the one shoving her against the wall. In a practiced flash, he searched her first—including the extra places she’d hidden her pins before— and pressed her for answers about the wound on her arm before bandaging it and moving onto his cloak.</p><p>Cass moved away from the wall when she heard the tinkling of the keys being pulled from the inside pocket. She didn’t miss his jaw try to hit the floor.</p><p>His eyes darted to both the window and the door again and he slipped the keys into his pants pocket. Neither of them spoke. He didn’t question her. They only stared at each other, their breaths too sharp and loud in the sleep-still space.</p><p>Her Director broke the stare off by sweeping through the suite, capping and blowing out every light. The resting blue glow of her devices kept her from jumping when he re-appeared in front of her demanding, “Where did you get the keys from, Cassandra?”</p><p>She chuckled as dark as the night around them. “In case Fitzherbert hasn’t already told you about our special three weeks together, you should know that interrogations don’t work on me.”</p><p>“Oh spare me.” Her Director pushed her along in front of him into her bedroom. “I’m trying to save your life, not interrogate you.”</p><p>Cass swallowed a hiss as he yanked her arms in front and shackled them together. “Could’ve fooled me.”</p><p>“Look at me,” He said taking hold of her shoulders once more and ducking down to be eye to eye. “Look. You are my responsibility, Cassandra. As my daughter first and—”</p><p>“Oh spare <em>me,”</em> She growled.</p><p>“No, listen to me.” He shook her once and continued in a whisper sharp enough to cut her face, “I’m responsible for you as I always have been but even more so in this situation we’re in right now. You’re serving prison time, Cass. And I’m your Director, appointed by the King himself to keep you accountable to your sentence. This isn’t some game or a grounding. The entire kingdom is watching you. They’re waiting for you to take just one more step outta line and that’s it. There won’t be anymore mercy.”</p><p>Cass rolled her eyes. “Yes, I heard the King. I was at my own trial, remember?”</p><p>“If your memory is so good then start taking this seriously. Because I am.” He nodded to the front door, to the guards outside it. “And <em>they</em> are. One more step, Cass, that’s all the reason they need. One more sin and the axe falls. Understand?”</p><p>She nodded. She did understand. The world had always worked in this manner and it would never change; It was kill or be killed.</p><p>Her Director nodded too and released her shoulders. “Good.” He dropped to the rug and pulled out the bed chain for her ankles that she’d kicked underneath when she’d left. “Tonight’s event will stay between the two of us. We can be thankful that no guard inspections happened when you were—”</p><p>A knock on the door had her Director ripping the chamber pot out from under her bed just as the door opened and yanking her down as the cry rang through the suite.</p><p>“Inspection!”</p><p>All the guards found upon their entry was Cass sitting, secured, and sinless.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! Only two chapters left til Act Three (my favorite)! Please hang in there with me to the end! </p><p>Also, I have no idea when Cass' birthday is supposed to be so I just made it up. But according to Disney she would've been 24 in the third season so I think I got her turning 25 right here. And the Birthday scene was supposed to have Faith and Shorty in it too but I admit that I have like a “writer-phobia” of doing multiple character scenes. I am very open to Constructive-criticism; If anyone’s got any tips for how to do those (or how to blend clothing description into scenes) in a non-awkward way, I would greatly appreciate it!</p><p>See y'all next chapter for... "The Glimmer"</p><p>10-5-20: My heart said the chapter would be up this weekend... my brain decided to crash into a wall and lose all knowledge of how to write so it's gonna take a bit longer, I apologize. Thank you for your patience, just know I'm working on it and it'll be up as soon as possible :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Glimmer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back! *waves to you all: my favorite people*<br/>This chapter begins the morning after the end of the last chapter so if you don't remember what happened as it's been so long (SO sorry but thank you so much for your patience while I researched the heck out of every detail in this chapter) please take a moment to go back and re-read. When you're ready, go forth and enjoy!! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Iron. Cold, unbendable, unnegotiable, iron. In her bedroom ten hours following Cassandra’s unpermitted outing, that was all her world consisted of; just iron. Just the same as it had been for the past nine months. It was actually starting to grow on her. Like a tumor.</p><p>What wasn’t iron bars and chains in her world was rain. Nine hours ago, the heavens had substituted their thunder and lightning for an oceanic downpour. It hadn’t let up since. Cassandra watched three splotches of algae get pelted down from her scenic view of a blank ivory wall in that time and had the fiercest urge to join them. But the raindrops wouldn’t take her. Not with all the iron in the way.</p><p>Cass slumped against the gritty painted window bars. Only ten hours ago she’d been on the other side of her cage. No chains ruled her, no guards suppressed her. There’d only been open air. Humid, sticky air, but purifying to her dust clogged lungs.</p><p>She didn’t regret leaving. Moving unhampered and free of the limitations and nail-screeching clattering of chains had been… ecstasy. To decide her own path for even a few steps again had been a thrill. It’d been the first time in almost a year she’d called all the shots and probably the last time in her life. Now it was back to dust.</p><p>Why had she come back?</p><p>The sodden owl on her ledge peered through the bars as though asking the same question.</p><p>Cass wished she had an answer.</p><p>It hadn’t been for the palace food, that was for sure; She’d take rabbit meat and stolen apples over tea sandwiches and frisks from the guards any day. And it definitely hadn’t been for the company; While her Director wasn’t attached at the hip seventeen hours out of the day in their palace-arrangement, his peeking in on her a dozen times an hour put quite the kibosh on the glories of “alone time”.</p><p>A hoot as dreary as the weather squeezed its way under the bottom crack of the window—a little chain on the window keeping it from opening more than the amount of her flattened hand—reminding her that out on the road, even better than true alone time, she’d had the unrestricted company of her truest companion.</p><p>Cass crammed a finger through the bars and under the pane to rub the talons of her friend. He clutched her finger before she could give a second stroke. A small smile flickered on her face.</p><p>There was no shortage of reasons for why she should’ve left. And yet, while she couldn’t come up with a single reason for staying, that was what she’d picked.</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>Cass shifted numbing legs on the tile floor causing her ankle chain to scrape along while she checked over her shoulder for the tenth time.</p><p>Still stretched out on the living room sofa, the lump that was her Director kept on sawing logs from under the canopy of a recipe book. Why he’d been reading that, she had no clue as their suite possessed no kitchen, but she wouldn’t comment on it. Maybe once the cottage was rebuilt it’d improve his chances of making them a half decent meal. Maybe.</p><p>Cass mashed her pounding temple into the cool bars. That was all she had to look forward to, all her future held: Suffering through the amended terms here in the palace then going back to the cottage. One cell to another. And then… well, that was it. As long as she possessed the Moonstone her case wouldn’t be re-evaluated and even if the Stone were not an issue, what reason would they have for lifting her life sentence? Stone or not, she was still a traitor—as her skin would forever tell. No, this—her finger out a locked window—was as much freedom as she would ever be given.</p><p>
  <em>Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.</em>
</p><p>Tiri was probably right. But Cass had failed. Her one chance she’d been waiting for she’d blown. Again, why? Again, she had no answer other than cowardice. Maybe waiting in the wings was where she was really meant to live. Having wings of her own just wasn’t in the cards.</p><p>Another hoot had her meeting unblinking yellow eyes and Cass sighed. Owl didn’t know how lucky he was. Though folded in close in the rain shower, those wings of his were something else. Even when not in use they were a gift. What they offered, what they represented, were at his disposal for whenever he chose. If he wished to swoop down on a juicy meal, he didn’t have to wait on anyone; he just could. If he wished to evade a trapper, he could. If he wished to chase adventure, find a new home, leave anyone and anything behind, he could.</p><p>It wasn’t fair.</p><p>Cass pulled her finger away but hummed to the bird when he hopped closer. It wasn’t Owl’s fault she was still on the inside. It was no one’s wretched fault but her own.</p><p>Why had she come back? Why was she still there to scratch tally marks in the royal walls when her freedom as well as the final piece of her destiny had been gift wrapped for her last night?</p><p>Why at the last moment had she stopped? Rapunzel wasn’t her friend anymore. She had no reason for loyalty yet she’d stopped. She’d failed her own self. Twice. She shouldn’t have come back and she shouldn’t have listened to her know-it-all twin.</p><p>Under the cover of her Director’s snores and Owl’s feather-ruffling hoots, Cass whispered, “I should’ve killed her.”</p><hr/><p>An hour later, the lump on the sofa jumped awake.</p><p>“Blast,” The lump muttered, yanking on his uniform jacket before disappearing to rush around the suite then into her room. His hair more ruffled than Owl’s. “We’re already late. Why didn’t you wake me?”</p><p>Her ankle chain was detached and Cass said, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware it was the prisoner’s duty to be their jailer’s time manager.”</p><p>“The meeting started five minutes ago.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So, it’s a very important meeting that I’m not supposed to be late to. One that you probably shouldn’t be listening to but it’s not like we have a choice. Now c’mon, up!”</p><p>He practically dragged her out the door in his rush and for the first time--though he still remembered to link her hands--he didn’t attach her waist chain. She certainly wasn’t going to complain.</p><p>Jogging through the whole way to their destination proved to be a more enjoyable experience than Cass could’ve expected. Not only did her knee last without more than a twinge and a passing wobble, but there were also piercing black rocks to greet her decorating every adjacent hall. Sometimes there was more rock than hall. They even had to step over a few along the way. The palace felt more like home than it ever had before.</p><p>Once they got to their destination—the Southeast corridor—they slowed to a walk and Cass got to better take in her decorations. Now on a lower level, there weren’t too many peaks but the black rocks’ presence was far from diminished as this was where their roots resided. Like tree trunks that were too big to put your arms around they filled most walkways. All the rubble around where they’d breeched had been cleared away but Cass was pleased that they couldn’t clear them away. Only she had the ability to do that. And she wouldn’t.</p><p>Cass delighted in passing space after space, turning corner after corner and seeing little else but her rocks and the Captain.</p><p><em>The Captain? </em>Cass did a double take.</p><p>Fitzherbert was… following her. Lurking around each column and suit of armor like a gaudy shadow.</p><p>That was odd even for him. And even so, if he was going to spy, he should’ve at least changed out of that loud uniform. He should’ve known that as he’d done enough sneaking around in his life. But when she spotted Pascal ornamenting his shoulder, she had to suppress a growl.</p><p>It wasn’t the Captain. It was <em>her.</em></p><p>Fantastic.</p><p>For someone Cass wasn’t supposed to visit with, she sure was seeing a lot of the Princess. And apparently, trying to kill her wasn’t enough of a message to get her to stay away. It seemed only a successful attempt would grant Cass peace.</p><p>At least now she knew who got the cloak after her arrest, though she hadn’t been wondering.</p><p>She glanced up to see if the men at her sides had spotted their tiptoeing shadow, but they were focused on the path ahead.</p><p>A little voice nudged her to tell her Director and keep Rapunzel away. She might’ve listened to it any other time but… since he was in such a hurry, she wouldn’t mention it. He’d already blamed her for his tardiness once. The voice told her that he might think this calls for the delay. ‘Better late than murder,’ he might say. But what did that voice know. They had a ‘very important meeting’ to get to after all.</p><p>She asked, “What’s this meeting even about?”</p><p>She didn’t have to wait long to find out as they turned one last corner and came upon a golden group gathered around a map scattered table and the speaker who was already speaking, “—the need to increase patrol along the city’s Central bridge before festival season arrives. That means four more— Advisor! Glad you could make it. We only just started.”</p><p>The Princess trailing her faded into the background as Cass came to stand facing the speaker also known as a voice of her nightmares.</p><p>“Lieutenant,” Her Director greeted with a nod and a blink of a glance her way, “The Captain hadn’t informed me you’d be leading this meeting?”</p><p>Lt. Maynard was careful to avoid her eye as he answered, “It was a last-minute arrangement, Sir. The Captain took ill with some bad ham from lunch.”</p><p>Cassandra was about to take ill with this meeting. She clenched her fists to hide her nerves as she said before he could start back with his speech, “I’m sorry to see they couldn’t fix your nose.”</p><p>The Lieutenant looked straight at her then and she offered a sweet smile. He ground out, “They did. It’s the same as before without even a bump out of place, no thanks to you.”</p><p>Cass just clutched her bound hands over her heart and said with gushing sympathy, “Oh I <em>know. </em>You poor thing.”</p><p>Her Director cleared his throat beside her while the guard on her other side broke position to cough and cover a chuckle.</p><p>“As I was saying,” The Lieutenant forced out through close to breaking teeth and turned his back to her. “The Central bridge is the sole entry point for landlocked visitors and the first point for us to…”</p><p>On and on and on he talked for hours in the following five minutes and in that time, Cass checked back on her shadow.</p><p>From around the corner of their alcove, Princess Fitzherbert waved with the exuberance of a tot.</p><p>Oy.</p><p>Cass didn’t give a single indication that she’d seen her and continued to glance around the purple walled space. A pair of unlit candelabras adorned the walls on either side of their group and a row of halberd-armed knight suits interrupting ceiling-high windows bookended the hall. The polished gold of the candelabras and the silver of the knight armor gave Cass a crystal-clear warning of the Sun-splotch’s approach. Her side guard, on the other hand, had no idea to expect a healthy beaming Captain to sidle up to him and tap his shoulder.</p><p>Captain Rapunzel said to both guards, “Sorry to distract you, but—” The Captain straightened and folded her hands behind her back before continuing an overly commanding but still hushed tone, “I can take it from here, men. I would like a word with her. You are dismissed… If that’s alright with you.”</p><p>The guards shared a look and Cass turned back to the meeting sure they would be able to spot the imposter and send her on her way—</p><p>“Of course, Captain,” They said and didn’t waste another second in taking their leave.</p><p>Nice to see she was still the smartest person in the kingdom.</p><p>Now the Princess sidled up next to her, whispering, “Hi Cass! Please don’t freak out but it’s actually me, Rapunzel!”</p><p>Oh wow. How surprising. Cass was going to faint from the sheer shock of the moment.</p><p>Any minute now.</p><p>Rapunzel continued, “Please don’t tell anyone but I’m using the cloak from the tower to pretend to be Eugene because I know about the distance rule and this was the only way I could think to get close enough to talk to you. Pretty covert, huh?”</p><p>“Yep. You’re a born spy, Princess,” Cass deadpanned.</p><p>“Captain?”</p><p>The meeting came to a screeching halt and all attention turned their way.</p><p>The <em>Captain</em> was silent as she felt her uniform and brushed her hair back as though assuring herself, she was really there before ushering Pascal away and saying, “Yes, that’s me! Your Captain. Commander in chief, the leader of our gang! Here in the flesh.”</p><p>All the guards just blinked. It was all Cass could do not to laugh. She didn’t want the Princess here but now she had to see how long Rapunzel could pull this off. If the narrowed look her Director was giving the both of them was any indicator, it wouldn’t be much longer.</p><p>Maynard, however, simply set the box of flag markers down on the table and stepped back. He said, “Well since you’re feeling better, I will hand the meeting over to you then—”</p><p>“No!” Again, all eyes were on Captain before she clarified, “I mean: No, that’s not necessary, Lieutenant. You’re doing splendidly on your own. Carry on, my good man!”</p><p>It took a minute but the meeting soon rolled back into gear and Cass thought Rapunzel might’ve actually pulled it off.</p><p>Her Director’s breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “I’ll give you and the Princess three minutes to visit.”</p><p>So maybe she was just One of the smartest people in the kingdom. She could live with that.</p><p>“I wanted to talk about last night,” Rapunzel whispered, “I know you said you changed your mind about talking but… I don’t think you would risk coming to see me if it wasn’t important. And we really do need to talk, Cass.”</p><p>Cassandra watched the markers that were placed about the map bridge and whispered back, “Then talk.”</p><p>“Well, what did you want to say to me last night?”</p><p><em>I didn’t want to talk, I came to kill you in your sleep.</em> “Nothing important. My Director’s giving you three minutes and you’ve already wasted twenty seconds. I’d start saying something useful before you’re exposed.”</p><p>“Why did you take the Stone, Cass?”</p><p>“Pick a different topic.” They were placing two new patrols just beyond the mouth of the bridge between the first row of shops, one along the bridge itself, and a new guard house with a twice a day rotation at the exit. All armed except one to be sent out for greeting and examining foreign carriages.</p><p>Rapunzel harrumphed. “Okay, I’ll try again then; What do you want to talk about?”</p><p>The new patrols would hardly put a dent in the palace ranks as they were training a new batch of recruits. Security would likely be taken first from the inner gardens.</p><p>“Cassandra?” </p><p>“I don’t have anything to talk about with you, Rapunzel,” She said, “No matter what face you wear that’s not going to change. Get used to things not going your way for once.”</p><p>“So that’s it? You’re not even going to try to help us fix our friendship?”</p><p>“There’s nothing to fix.”</p><p>Cass met the Princess’—or rather Fitzherbert’s—teary eyes when she took a sharp inhale. Through the tears, she scrutinized her from head to toe as though Cass were the one in the cloak.</p><p>“I know this isn’t you. What they did to you… what Zhan Tiri fed you… it’s not you,” Rapunzel said, backing away. “I will honor your need for space and wait for you to… initiate, but I’m not giving up on you. I will keep waiting.”</p><p>The Princess kept backing up into the hall, not paying attention to any of her surroundings, even bumping into a passing maid as she said, “I’ll keep waiting for you, Cass. As long as it takes.”</p><p>Cassandra was turning back to the meeting right when Rapunzel turned to flee but instead crashed into a suit of armor. The suit’s anchor in the floor didn’t do anything to keep Rapunzel upright or the well-oiled halberd that’d been dislodged from falling straight for the neck of the downed Princess.</p><p>“Move!” Cass didn’t think it through. She didn’t think at all as she rushed forward to catch the halberd by its staff. She didn’t think of anything but saving the Princess’ life.</p><p>The group of Guardsmen that spun to see her standing above the now uncloaked Princess with a weapon, however, seemed to think quite a different thing.</p><p>Swords and daggers from ten men were drawn on her and above the ringing the men shouted, “Get down on the ground!”</p><p>“Back away from the Princess!”</p><p>“Put the weapon down now!”</p><p>“No!” Rapunzel cried over them, scrambling to her knees with arms outstretched. “She’s not attacking me!”</p><p>“She’s still in violation of the terms, Your Highness,” The helpful Lieutenant said.</p><p>Her Director had no blade in his hands but his tone was sharp enough when he barked, “Cassandra, put the weapon down and step away!”</p><p>“You don’t understand! She—” Rapunzel looked up at Cass and a shining smile brought on a different kind of tears as she marveled, “She saved me.”</p><p>Cassandra remained frozen staring down at the Princess staring back at her until her gaze moved on to the weapon still in her hands.</p><p>“Cassandra, put it down!” Her Director called again.</p><p>It was the first real weapon she’d held in what felt like forever. Even though her bad one shook in maintaining the hold, the staff felt right at home in her hands. The smooth solid oak settled into where old calluses had been. The weight set her whole frame in a perfect balance she hadn’t realized she’d been missing… And with the Princess kneeling before her, she was at the perfect angle for a swing to—</p><p>“Cassandra!”</p><p>Cass flicked her eyes over to where he stood. Every other man was tensed and armed and poised to charge her should she twitch. Her Director was armed with the hard glint in his eye that told her he knew exactly what she was considering and that right now, she would lose if she tried.</p><p>She lowered the weapon to the tile floor.</p><p>The Lieutenant shouted, “Back away!”</p><p>She did.</p><p>“And put your hands on your head and get on your knees!”</p><p>She didn’t.</p><p>No one else moved or even relaxed as her Director stomped over and grabbed her biceps almost hard enough to bruise. He spun her around and marched her down the opposite hall, hissing, “We’re going to have a long talk about what a visit does and does not consist of. I’ll start us off: It doesn’t consist of planning to kill the visitor.”</p><p>He continued to make a list and keep a tight grip on her as they marched but it her thoughts were back at the alcove. What had happened and what could’ve but didn’t happen.</p><p>In the span of two days she’d missed two chances to claim her freedom, her revenge, and her destiny. She was unlikely to ever get a third.</p><p>What she could not begin to wrap her head around was why that didn’t feel like such a bad thing.</p><hr/><p>An hour, a fitting with a backup waist chain, and a lecture Cass only listened to the first word of later, she and her Director were sitting in their respective seats in the Captain’s office; <em>both</em> reading for once.</p><p>The absence of his scratching quill was a blessing. Truly. But she wasn’t so sure it was worth what took its place.</p><p>While her new book, <em>The Royal Manual of Ship Cannons: Construction &amp; Maintenance 2<sup>nd</sup> Edition</em>, was barely keeping her attention enough to skim, whatever her Director was reading was putting him through the wringer.</p><p>From the minute he’d seen it on his desk and read the note—which she assumed was from the Captain—on top of it, a somberness had come over him like he’d just been told of an upcoming funeral. From there he took turns wilting and tensing with every page read. Worst of all, in-between mashing his temples and raking his fingers through his hair, he kept looking up at her.</p><p>She reasoned that he could’ve been thinking over what just happened out in the hall. The minute she’d spent running through it in her mind on the walk to the office it’d threatened to give her one monster of a headache if she continued so she understood if that was the case. But with how the looks coincided with each page turned, she couldn’t be sure. Cass wouldn’t care at all if it wasn’t so distracting—</p><p>From the corner of her eye she saw him do it yet again. And again.</p><p>The corner of a page was crumpled in her hand. Fine. She’d bite. She turned a page in the manual without even trying to smooth out the last one and said, “Can I help you?”</p><p>A few moments passed and another page was turned before he cleared his throat and muttered, “I should be asking you that.”</p><p>Cassandra shot him a more obvious side-eye and said, “I’m fine. Enjoying my book—” No she wasn’t. “—thanks for checking.”</p><p>“I think I may have to visit the medic if I read anymore of this,” He said.</p><p>“Here’s a thought: Maybe you should stop reading it then?”</p><p>Cassandra looked up when no response came. The sight of that death pinch on the bridge of his nose greeted her. She’d always known him to do that when fighting not to cry. An extremely rare sight indeed. She went back to studying the cannon sketches in her manual.</p><p>With a sharp breath he tossed a ribbon on his book and crossed to the door. He told one of the guards posted outside, “Watch her for a minute.” Then over his shoulder to her, “I’ll be right outside. Please… behave.”</p><p>Cass waited for his heavy footfalls to fade before she eyed the guard in the doorway and then the crossed decorative swords over his head just to make him sweat. With a slow spreading grin, she stood… to peruse the bookshelves and swap for a new book. It was a shame the Captain had thought to remove the emergency dagger in the bookcase. She swapped for another book.</p><p>On her way back to her seat she detoured to glance over the reading materials that’d been working to streak grey in her Director’s hair.</p><p>A leather-bound file folder as thick as a brick was open to a report and a ribbon marked where he’d left off mid-sentence. It read:</p><p>
  <em>—prisoner has been under water drip for 52 hrs. Signs of dehydration and delirium. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not responsive to questioning. No progress on weapon obtainer—</em>
</p><p>Cass startled as the file was slammed shut by her Director. She hadn’t heard him re-enter or shut the door over the battering of her heart.</p><p>This was her file. She hadn’t even known they made records of her torture but here it was. And her Director had been reading it like it was a bloody novel.</p><p>Cass snarled, “Enjoying your reading?”</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to see this.” His red-rimmed eyes wouldn’t meet her glare.</p><p>“But you were?” She flipped it the file back open. “I can’t imagine this has anything to do with being the Captain’s stooge, so why do you have it?”</p><p>“I requested the file for myself. I… needed to know.”</p><p>There wasn’t any sign to indicate he was lying but it answered approximately zero of her questions so she pressed, “You needed to know the details of what they did to me.”</p><p>“I needed to know how to help you.”</p><p>“So, you thought finding out the specifics of how they tortured me would somehow help me?” She said, “I don’t know whether to call that a load of horsepucky or just some very skewed logic, Director.”</p><p>Cass snatched the file up from the desk but he held on with red fingertips.</p><p>That watery gaze finally bored into her and he said, “Don’t do this to yourself, Cass.”</p><p>“I’m starting to think you’ve got something to hide.” She yanked it from his grip and sat in her seat already flipping through. This was about the darkest part of her life. If anyone in the world had a right to read it, it was her. She flipped back all the way to the cover page where it listed her regulation stats—Age and name, state of health upon arrest, physical description, place of birth, laundry list of charges, yada yada— and moved on to the second page to read:       </p><p>
  <em>Date filed: 13 NOV 1788</em>
</p><p>
  <em>CLOSED BY TRIAL 18 DEC 1788</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Placement: Level 5 Cell b.1 -Max secure. </em>
</p><p><em>Cpt F.</em> <em>—MOVED TO Home I. POST TRIAL</em></p><p>
  <em>Max regulations remain. Two-man watch Daily.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>File Sub Cat.: Interrogation</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Object: Obtain weapon (MoonStone)</em>
</p><p><em>Status: <strike>In Progress</strike></em> <em> Cpt F.</em> <strong> <em>—UNSUCCESSFUL BY TRIAL—</em> </strong></p><p>Cass smirked. Darn right it was unsuccessful. “Interrogation” was an interesting word choice for categorizing her three weeks of being shredded apart though. A neat and tidy word for a neat and tidy kingdom.</p><p>She was ready to flip to the next page when the final words in the Status line caused her smirk to drop and the power in her core to crackle.</p><p>
  <em>—Weapon obtainer post-trial:<strong> IN PROGRESS</strong></em>
</p><p>She said without looking away from the page, “You still think you’re going to take the Stone from me?”</p><p>“I don’t,” Her Director said, “But it appears they—”</p><p>“You’re part of ‘They’, Director.”</p><p>A new ink well was pulled from a rolling drawer and smacked down on the desk hard enough it could’ve cracked. “No, I’m not. I have no part in this operation.”</p><p>“No part? You’re the one directly responsible for <em>this operation.” </em>Whatever lie he spouted next she tuned out. Cass tore through a few sections and skimmed through bits and pieces of cold notes of her worst days:</p><p>
  <em>—prisoner has been administered 90mg of Belladonna. Observation to follow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-20 hr. signs of dry mouth, confusion, uncontrollable vomiting, pupils uneven. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prisoner vocal but uncooperative with weapon ob.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-49hr. signs of skin redness and excessive respiratory distress. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prisoner in emotional distress. Prisoner uncooperative with weapon ob. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>5mg of Physostigmine administered. </em>
</p><p><em>Cpt F.</em> <em>—</em> <strong> <em>Method Unsuccessful and Abandoned</em> </strong></p><p>Cass remembered the berry sweet semi-tart poison. The same old questions barked at her to surrender the Moonstone and to tell them who her allies were came first. She remembered refusing them with her silence and the many hands that struck out to hold her still on the icy sticky floor and pried her jaw open. She remembered them sealing off her airways while she tried to spit out the poison…she’d almost passed out before her body had betrayed her and swallowed. They’d replaced the muzzle right after and told her to snap with her good hand if she changed her mind and only <em>after</em> she’d given them what they wanted would they give her the antidote. She remembered the hours of dread while she waited for the poison to fester and claim her.</p><p>The chain at her waist now kept her from rubbing at her neck that she remembered slowly blistering inside and out from that method. She remembered not being able to see, hearing shouting from all around her from people she didn’t know, then seeing far far too much. She’d seen Zhan Tiri again in that time and she might’ve thought that visit to be real too if it wasn’t for the parrot wings she’d possessed. She’d been fifty percent positive the girl never had those in real life.</p><p>Long after the antidote, she remembered a tearful man in a white coat touching her far too gently to belong on earth though he assured her they both still were. “Thankfully,” He’d added.  She hadn’t shared the sentiment.</p><p>Cassandra swallowed and flipped through more accounts:</p><p>
  <em>—restriction of sustenance Week Two follows: Prisoner in short restraints in center. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Substance placed inside entry of cell. Prisoner questioned. Prisoner nonverbal and </em>
</p><p>
  <em>uncooperative with weapon ob. Method effectiveness inconclusive. </em>
</p><p><em>Cpt F.</em> <em>—Set to continue</em></p><p>She remembered that. She’d never wanted a crummy roll so badly. The ants that came to devour it in the end she’d silently cursed to kingdom come. They replaced the roll a day later. Close enough that her fingertips almost brushed the crust. Eating was always out of reach… She hadn’t known food of any kind in so long…</p><p>Her legs took to an erratic bouncing.</p><p>“Cassandra,” Her Director called, speeding around the desk. “Let me have the file.”</p><p>She read on:</p><p><em>—questioned. Prisoner</em> <em>was subject to multiple Animal(Rat) bites before fire and barrel removed. </em></p><p>
  <em>Method aborted by Lt. Maynard for sake of life. Prisoner uncooperative with weapon ob. </em>
</p><p><em>Cpt F.</em> <em>—<strong>Method deemed Unsuccessful and Aborted</strong></em></p><p>Her stomach clenched. She remembered that too.</p><p>
  <em>— fifth round of day: prisoner in suspension restraints has sustained multiple contusions; suspected fractures; </em>
</p><p>
  <em>non-fatal blood loss. Prisoner questioned. Prisoner uncooperative with weapon ob. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prisoner vocal; specific. Text record of speech: “Next”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prisoner unconscious; Method effectiveness inconclusive. </em>
</p><p><em>Cpt F.</em> <em>—Set to continue—</em></p><p>The file was closed by a soldier and she jumped. Would’ve fallen right out of the chair if it weren’t for his grasp on her shoulders. He kept her from moving anywhere at all.</p><p>She bucked. “No, get off!”</p><p>“Easy, easy,” His voice was a purr. She knew tones like that to be as assuring as a rattlesnake’s rather than a kitten’s. “You’re alright.”</p><p>The chains constricting her waist and any effective attempts to move the soldier away intensified the tremors freezing her down to her core. The room around her had no window, no open exit, too small. The air too stale. There were guards muttering, marching just outside. She shuddered, saying, “They’re going to do it again.”</p><p>“No they’re not. Cassandra, look at me,” The soldier pinning her said, but when his familiar features came into focus, it didn’t calm her. He continued, “They’re not even here. It’s just you and me. I’m not going to let anyone touch you again.”</p><p>The marching was getting louder. Closer. Clattering chains joined the chorus and she kicked out. “That’s not true, get off! You’re a liar and that’s all you ever do is lie to me!”</p><p>He removed his grip as quick as though she’d burned him but then he was cupping her face and saying, “I have lied to you, I’ll admit it, Cass. But I would never lie to you about your safety. You’re safe. I will always protect you with all that I am.”</p><p>Cass continued to gulp down air until the boots outside had passed on by. But when her Director tried to smooth away a tear, she jerked back. No one was hurting her—yet. No one had come in—yet. But he was still a liar, through and through. She’d never trust his word again.</p><p>She didn’t know how many minutes rolled by before her shaking had faded. Her Director remained kneeling in front of her and only shifted on what was sure to be sore kneecaps until all traces of her tears had dried. Cass took a deep steadying breath but could still hear his joints popping when he stood and reached a hand out to her.</p><p>He said, “Let me put that away now; We’ve both read enough.”</p><p>She hadn’t even realized she’d kept hold of the file through her… lapse. A tight hold, if the papers coming unstuck from her sweaty red creased hands was any indication. She shifted her hold but didn’t hand it over. “How much did you read of this, Director?”</p><p>“Enough.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, judging what angle this fight was coming from. “Enough to hate every official in this palace and to know that you shouldn’t be reading it.”</p><p>“If you read a quarter of it, you should understand that I don’t take orders. Especially for or from anyone like you. <em>Director.</em> Not anymore.” Not ever again.</p><p>“Alright, Cassandra, enough already. You’ve punished me enough. I’m your Director in legal matters, yes. I’m glad you understand that. But I’m your father above all else. This arrangement doesn’t change that.”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t. You changed it.”</p><p>While her Director crossed to the desk then crossed his arms and waited for an explanation, that night that lead to the creation of the file in her lap played over in her mind. Not for the first time. Not for the second. Not for the hundredth. And certainly not for the last.</p><p>Cassandra would always remember the words he spoke from the dark behind her in the throne room. She would always remember the look of determination and lack of an ounce of hesitation in her father when he swung that damning candleholder into her head. She would always remember the horrors that followed and the person that never came to save her.</p><p>Cassandra remembered and crossed to look up into his face and say, “You lost the right to that place in my life the moment you handed me over to be tortured. You chose your side. You chose them.” She dropped the file on the desk and returned to her seat far on the opposite side. “And I’ve chosen mine.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ALLLRIGHTY! I'll be back with the last chapter of part two next weekend! Until then, tell me what ya thought! Favorite thing? Least favorite thing? Something that surprised you or made you feel feelings? Hopefully I succeeded in making that happen XD<br/>(Side note: I had really cool font in my draft to make the "Cpt F." parts look like his signature but couldn't figure out how to do that on here, but lets pretend I did ;)</p><p>In the meantime, for my readers that are also writers, I would like to present you with a writing challenge prompt! I am in the middle of writing 16 (I think I've kinda lost count now) stories, some for other fandoms and original books of my own, but the point is I'm swamped BUT I continue to come up with new ideas that I would like to read. So, here's the prompt if anyone would like to take me up on it: It'd be canon setting, post-epilogue time, with Cass wandering into the Dark kingdom OR being handed off to the Dark kingdom to facing trial for what she did there (mind controlled the king and other brotherhood members, stole the Moonstone, etc.). Feel free to let Hector rough her up a bit and want to see her executed while Adira basically ensures they actually get Cass to the king alive. There is a more to this prompt (mainly dialogue) that I came up with that I could PM you on FF (my URL is Jesusfollower97) if you would like that but I would love to read your own takes! So go forth my minions, if you dare! XD</p><p>See you next chapter for... "The Changing Heart"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Changing Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Summer drudged past and fell into fall where the robust green leaves were the only things to change in Cassandra’s life.</p><p>The puzzle of why she hadn’t taken the Princess’ life in those two opportunities still remained unsolved. And by the time Cass decided to give up and decide there was no clear answer, she realized it’d passed: The one-year anniversary of her arrest.</p><p>She really didn’t care as much as she thought she would. What was there to care about when she had such a spectacular view out her window?</p><p>The towering pines, proud, full of vigor, undaunted by creature and icy winds alike… that weren’t there. The snowflake sprinkled mountains that were unmoved by wars or blizzards or time and silhouetted by a full moon… none of which was there. But she had no one to tell her it wasn’t. No one to tell her there was something else. Nothing to distract her—save for the scraping cuffs on her limbs and the jabbing of the Stone within—so she let the images stay. She had such a spectacular view.</p><p>When a roll of paper tapped her shoulder, Cass about dislocated her leg in flinching back to her chain’s limit.</p><p>“It’s only me!” Her Director said, hands raised in innocence—however “innocent” they could be while holding more chains and her daily log.</p><p>Cass rubbed at her jolted appendage and snatched the charcoal stub she was handed. She hesitated to sign when she saw the location line that read: <em>Royal gardens.</em></p><p>“Why are we going to the gardens?” She asked, not signing.</p><p>“I thought you could do with an outing that wasn’t work related,” Her Director said, though he was still dressed in full uniform. “There is another reason but the outing doesn’t hinge on it. We can still turn it down and go.”</p><p>Of course, there was another reason. What would Corona be if not for constant underlying secrets? “Does this have anything to do with—?”</p><p>“It does,” Her Director rushed to say, “But this wasn’t the Princess’ idea. The Captain has arranged a visit—intentional this time and with full precautions—for you two. I shot it down at first, but then they made an offer that I couldn’t shoot down.”</p><p>“Which is…?”</p><p>“If this goes well, Fitzherbert said he’d talk the King into taking some time off your sentence. <em>If</em> this goes well.”</p><p>Cassandra looked to the bars between her and her mirage mountain retreat.</p><p>“But I’m giving you a choice,” He said, “Are you up for another visit with Rap—with her? If you’re not, just say the word and I’ll have no problem disappointing their Royal Highnesses.”</p><p>Cassandra watched the pines out her window fade away into the bland wall beyond, then signed the log.</p><p>She said, “I’ll go along with it, on one condition…”</p><hr/><p><em>“’In progress?’”</em> Rapunzel cried, “What do they even mean by that!”</p><p>The orange chrysanthemum flowers framing the small garden’s fountain were just short enough to dodge the pacing Princess’ slashing braid that sought to dwarf them.</p><p>With her hands useless and shackled behind her back to her waist, Cassandra shoved her nose into her shoulder as flecks of pollen flew across to where she sat on an icy stone bench. The flecks were like nostril-seeking arrows.</p><p>Over her shield, she caught sight of her Director amidst the line of the dozen armed guards in the stone walkway bordering the garden. There wasn’t a single one of them without a hand on a weapon or without a predatory stare.</p><p>Her Director flashed his old silver pocket watch her way and mouthed, ‘<em>Six more minutes.’</em></p><p>Six? Cass screwed her eyes shut and thought back on the parameters he’d laid out for her before they’d entered the garden.</p><p>“Do not try to use the Stone. Do not fight your restraints. Do not move from where you’re positioned,” He’d fired off, “Just talk to her or at least listen and everything will be fine. It’s only ten minutes.”</p><p>The ten-minute allotment was passing more like ten centuries. It’d be a miracle if she survived.</p><p>“Do they think they can just keep trying to—ouch!” Layers of crunchy amber foliage were crushed beneath the Princess’ bare feet but a single acorn succeeded in derailing her rampage. But only for a second. “—keep bullying you into giving up the Stone?”</p><p>“Of course they do,” Cass braved the pollen to answer the Princess, “And careful Rapunzel or you might almost sound like you care what they do to me, that you <em>sympathize</em> with me. You wouldn’t like what your people do to traitors.”</p><p>The trickling of the three-tiered fountain filled the air while Rapunzel turned with hands on her hips to glare at her. “I do care about what they do to you. They can know it. And I think somewhere inside you know that I do too, because why else would you want me to read the file?”</p><p>The file. The newest thing that’d haunted her every time she’d closed her eyes. Especially the two words on the cover page. Cass gave only one condition for meeting with the Princess and it was that they had to give her the file. Why she’d asked for that? She wasn’t entirely sure but it’d seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe after a year in a cage the longing for having someone on her side was getting to her. Maybe she’d just wanted to make the Princess cry. And she had. But the tears had morphed into this spicy rage before she’d gotten half way through.</p><p>For some reason it made Cass feel… good.</p><p>When Cassandra didn’t reply, the Princess returned to her crunching rampage. “What even gives them the right to do this? Have they all lost their humanity!”</p><p>“In war, each side will do whatever it takes to win,” Cass said, “Neither side will stop their attacks while the fight is still waging. It’s battle basics.”</p><p>Rapunzel stopped to cock her head to the side. “We’re not at war.”</p><p>Cassandra gave a sharp laugh. “Nice to see you’re as naïve as ever.” The jumpy guard directly behind her in the walkway pulled her chain tauter as she purred, “Ask your father or your boyfriend and they’ll tell you the same thing: You’ve captured me but as long as I have the Moonstone I haven’t lost, Princess. We’re still fighting.”</p><p>“But that doesn’t change the issue here,” Rapunzel said, “They can’t just use winning as an excuse to hurt you when you’re down.”</p><p>“And why is that, Rapunzel? Because you don’t see me as a threat? Or because you haven’t authorized it?”</p><p>Her braid swept up a whirlwind of fiery leaves as she turned and cried, “Because the ends do <em>not</em> get to justify the means!”</p><p>Cassandra’s breath caught and her gaze found her flimsy canvas shoes. The fountain and a new howling breeze were the only things to speak in the next moments before Rapunzel was being ushered away and her Director converged on her. The ten minutes were up.</p><hr/><p>Thirty years. Cassandra’s <em>Life sentence</em> had been reduced to thirty more years because they were “seeing great progress”.</p><p>“Keep it up dragon lady, and who knows,” Fitzherbert had said after delivering the news, “It just might not be long before the King re-evaluates the need for your sentence altogether!”</p><p>It didn’t add up.</p><p>Rapunzel.</p><p>The King.</p><p>The Captain.</p><p>Her Director.</p><p>Rapunzel… was ready to defend her against her own kingdom and family…</p><p>The King… had drastically reduced her sentence and was open to more negotiations…</p><p>The Captain…was hopeful for her pardon…</p><p>Her Director… well her Director was over the moon about the news.</p><p>“It’s more than we could’ve hoped for,” He said around the last shoveled mouthful of crabmeat at lunch, “It most certainly tops the news I had for you.”</p><p>Cass bumped her straggler peas into laps around her plate and gave a questioning grunt.</p><p>“The cottage should be ready for us to move back in as early as next week,” He said, “I’m already packed!”</p><p>A pea shot off her plate and not even her ankle chain could dampen the hope that rose. “We’re leaving?”</p><p>“Sure are!” His smile reached his eyes for the first time in months and didn’t fade while he took their dishes to the service cart at the entrance.</p><p>She was getting out of the palace. Sure, she was going straight into another cage but that cage allowed her an authentic view, time outside every week, several more hours out of her room and thus out of chains, no daily log, no gossips to gawk at her brand every day, and best of all: No more entering the dungeons. She had no doubt the Captain would still be stopping by to check on them often but he would be coming to them. She wouldn’t have to set foot in the place she’d been torn apart in ever again. They were leaving.</p><p>Thirty years—or a Sundrop—still stood between Cass and true freedom, but for now… this was about as close as she could easily get to it. And maybe it was worth taking.</p><p>The fragrances of the earthen soil, salty sea, and sweet country quiet teased her with the ghosting of their memory. She only had to wait a few more days.</p><p>Her Director was wrong: This news topped the Captain’s.</p><p>The front door was closed and locked behind the service cart and her Director—still wearing that smile— strode back over to unlock her.</p><p>“You’ve got some free time right now but in less than a half hour I’ve got to guide Fitzherbert through security protocol for a visiting ambassador, so—” The chain collapsed to the floor and he stood, gesturing to his fraying casual shirt and shorts, “—I’m gonna go ahead and change. Alright?”</p><p>Cassandra nodded and set about pacing the main room’s perimeter while he closed himself in his room.</p><p>They were leaving. A laugh grew in her chest… until she realized the other side to the departure:  They were leaving and her odds of getting to the Sundrop were about to decrease dramatically.</p><p>The cottage would have less security than the palace, but she would have a bridge, a number of patrols, the city, the gates, and the labyrinth of the palace itself to hurdle to get to the Princess then. If she relocated back to the cottage, she might just have to accept the full scope of her sentence.</p><p>“Cass,” Her Director called from around a cracked door, “I actually need to press my slacks. Do I have time?”</p><p>Cass glanced at the clock on the coffee table and just said, “It’s twenty til.”</p><p>A quick “thanks” and the door shut again leaving her to her thoughts.</p><p>Thirty more years. She’d be older than her Director was presently when she was released. To taste life without chains again, without bars, a life of adventure, opportunities, any real life at all… she’d have to spend the majority of her life waiting.</p><p>Cassandra glared at the suns embossed on the chandelier, the coffee table, the harp, nearly every wall and furnishing. She needed that drop. At any cost. For her sanity. She needed it.</p><p>
  <em>Because the ends do not get to justify the means!</em>
</p><p>The memory of Rapunzel’s words sapped Cass of her fire and sent her sinking onto the sofa. The Princess had spoken the words with such passion, such conviction, in defense of <em>her.</em> Against her own family. And Cassandra had tried… was still planning to murder her. The girl who was her best friend— “Used to be,” Cass muttered into her hands. Former best friend— that would work for now. She had to murder her former best friend…</p><p>Cassandra retook to her pacing with a growl.</p><p>It was clear. She had a mission. A goal for which she endured all of the humiliation and pain of the last year: Get the Sundrop, regain freedom, achieve her destiny.</p><p>It was clear. There was no questioning it.</p><p>
  <em>The ends do not get to justify the means.</em>
</p><p>Cassandra scowled at the passing shadows under the front door as the guard’s changed shifts. Nothing was clear anymore. The sides were blurred, the motives unclear, her own motives… Why did she have to become a murderer for her to get the stone?</p><p>Why was she even questioning the path?</p><p>
  <em>You stand to lose far more than you stand to gain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because the ends do not get to justify the means!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.</em>
</p><p>A lot of pretty words from people playing their own angles. Who was she to trust?</p><p>The last time she’d listened to her Twin it’d cost her everything she sought.</p><p>The last time she’d listened to Rapunzel at the Goodwill Festival, it’d ended up costing Cass her freedom.</p><p>The last time she’d listened to Zhan Tiri—No. The last time—times actually— she <em>hadn’t</em> listened to Tiri… It’d cost her everything as well.</p><p>
  <em>Freedom will never truly be yours until the two stones belong to one.</em>
</p><p>Cassandra rubbed at the irksome MRD binding her neck as she wandered into her bedroom. Her freedom was no doubt tied to the stones. Her destiny as well. But did the one who they belonged to necessarily have to be—</p><p>A voice sprouted from the shadows behind her, “Confused again, are we?”</p><p>Cassandra spun to see Zhan Tiri leaning against the corner wall, a strange glint in those purple eyes as she examined her lacy-gloved hand.</p><p>Her Director’s door remained shut but Cass still kept her voice low as she said, “You shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>The demon didn’t budge. “How did you enjoy your birthday gifts, Cassandra? I should have you know I went through a lot to get them for you. Were they useful?”</p><p>“Yes,” Cassandra said. A few mild bumps sounded behind her Director’s door before he began a jaunty whistle. “But they were—"</p><p>“Confiscated?” Zhan Tiri finished, “Oh I know. But at least you were able to take a stroll before you came back empty handed and defeated by the Princess once again.”</p><p>Cass kept an eye on the other bedroom but snapped, “Rapunzel didn’t defeat me, she was—!”</p><p>“Sleeping? Vulnerable and exposed? I’m aware of that too. Honestly, Cassandra, it was like you didn’t even want to be free.”</p><p>Cass’ attention was pulled fully away from her Director’s bedroom as the last thing she expected was pulled from the girl’s pocket: The keys.</p><p>Zhan Tiri studied them with a frown as she spread them out in her hand and answered Cass’ unspoken question. “It wasn’t nearly as problematic to get these a second time,” She continued, “But I don’t think I should give them to you. No. You see, it quite hurts someone’s feelings when a gift is returned. Unused and unappreciated.”</p><p>She should just snatch the things out of the kid’s hands. “Are you looking for an apology?”</p><p>“I’m afraid we’re past that now,” The girl said, “Your conversation in the garden today was sweet and very enlightening for me. And I must admit I’m disappointed, Cassandra. I thought you understood that the Princess was the enemy here, not an ally.”</p><p>“I do understand that.”</p><p>“Then why did you hesitate not once, but thrice to claim your victory? Have you come to enjoy your captivity?”</p><p>The Stone lurched to life but the devices beat it down. She hissed, “No.”</p><p>“Then the only conclusion is that you no longer want to achieve your destiny: Destroying the Princess.”</p><p>“I thought my destiny was to control both of the Stones?”</p><p>“You think destroying the Princess and obtaining the Sundrop are exclusive?”</p><p>Cass let her silence be her answer.</p><p>A roll of gemstone eyes. “You poor thing, those interrogations must’ve fractured your mind more than I’d thought. I’ve already told you the only way to the Sundrop is to—"</p><p>“If this destiny is really mine,” It was Cass’ turn to interrupt, “Then I will decide how to achieve it, not you. Not Rapunzel.” She headed for her Director’s bedroom. The girl liked to come to her when she was alone and she’d had enough of this visit. But Cass paused in her doorway long enough to toss over her shoulder, “You’re not going to pull my strings anymore.”</p><p>For the second time that visit, Zhan Tiri surprised her by merely waving the words away. “No, of course not, dear.” A bit of sunlight—it had to be just the sunlight— slicing through Cass’ barred window twinkled along her fingertips as the girl gestured to the front door. “That’s what they’re here for.”</p><p>The deadbolt on the door slid back and it opened to allow her two guards inside. Two hulking average-faced guards she’d never seen before. Their stride was too confident to mark them as new recruits and there wasn’t an inch of their fitted, tucked, and polished uniforms that indicated impostors. But when the door was closed behind them with the force of a whisper, Cassandra started to scan for anything she could use for a weapon.</p><p>Only the continued whistling of her Director filled the air as Cass matched one guard step for step through the suite. Cass grasped a rung of a dining chair at her back as the guard barricaded her Director’s door with his halberd. The second guard drew his sword and came around the sofas to block her path to the front door.</p><p>The whistling danced on while Cass said, “I’m guessing you’re not here for a routine check.” She jerked her chin at the men, saying to Zhan Tiri, “Friends of yours?”</p><p>“New disciples, one might say,” Zhan Tiri said then sighed, long and unapologetic, “I enjoyed your company and your aid before your arrest, Cassandra, but you’ve served your purpose as the Moonstone’s caretaker. And since you’re more of an obstacle than a help to fetch the Sundrop for me too… I fear our alliance has come to its end.”</p><p>Cassandra tightened her grip on the chair and didn’t miss a twitch of the three people surrounding her. “I know that it has to be disappointing to hear but you can’t take it. The Moonstone’s merged with me as the Sundrop has with Rapunzel. It’s as much a part of me now as my heart.”</p><p>Zhan Tiri merely hummed and snapped her fingers at her puppets. “Separate them.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>END PART TWO</p><p> </p><p>Yay for Rapunzel coming to deliver the moral of this story! *three cheers* <br/>The last scene of chap 16 is the first scene written for this story, the one that started it all and I hope it doesn't disappoint *sweats* Part Three is all pretty fast paced so HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS EVERYONE!!<br/>See y'all next week for the first two chapters of Part Three! :D<br/>Next chapter... "The Attack"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Attack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PREVIOUSLY ON SHADOWS: </p>
<p>Zhan Tiri merely hummed and snapped her fingers at her puppets. "Separate them."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to Part Three! Enjoy the ride! <br/>*Maniacal Laugh*</p>
<p>If you would like a heightened experience with this chapter the Instrumental soundtracks I wrote them to are "Fear will find you" for the first scene, and "Why Do We Fall?" for the second. Both are by Hans Zimmer from The Dark Knight Rises album. If you want to do this, I STRONGLY suggest you put each song on repeat for their scenes (the page break divides the two scenes) as the songs aren't as long as the reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>PART THREE</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The guards struck.</p>
<p>Cass blocked with the only thing she had and splinters shot through the air as chair and sword clashed. One swiped for her neck and she reeled back, abandoning her broken chair to flip over the table. Or tried to.</p>
<p>A guard kicked into the trunk of the table shoving it forward and causing her to land atop it. She rolled off just before the guard’s sword could cleave her in two. It stuck in the table and it was her turn to kick the table away and the guard with it.</p>
<p>The second lunged for her with a yell and his sword pierced through the seat of the new chair she snatched up. The end of the blade a breath away from her chest. Cass wrenched the seat to the side and the sword from his hands. He tackled her to the ground before she could grab the weapon.</p>
<p>The barricaded door rattled as they both grappled to reach the sword first.</p>
<p>“Who’s out there!” Her Director’s cry was muffled, and barely discernible over the rattling. The halberd held firm.</p>
<p>The guard gained the top position. Pinning her. He pulled back for a punch. Cass roared and used the guard’s weight to flip him over her head and slam onto his back. He stayed down; winded. Cass scrambled for the sword.</p>
<p>The first guard chopped off the sword’s hilt just as her fingertips touched. Cass scrambled back to avoid his plunging blade. It razored down the back of her shoulder instead. Searing through shirt, skin, and muscle.</p>
<p>Cassandra cried out.  </p>
<p>Her Director did as well in between kicks to the door. “Cassandra! Open this door!”</p>
<p>Cass’ sticky blood oozed through her fingers as she clutched her shoulder and kept her prowling opponents in front of her. She backed toward the door or more importantly, the halberd in the door. It was time to bring this fight to even ground.</p>
<p>Cassandra smiled—and charged for the weapon.</p>
<p>One guard charged after her and she spun to deflect while the other one blindsided her with his words.</p>
<p>“Go!” The first guard shouted to no one as he sheathed his bloodied sword. “Alert the Captain the prisoner is attacking!”</p>
<p>Zhan Tiri nodded and Cass didn’t have time to question it before the second guard slung her over the sofa. He was between her and the halberd the second she landed on one knee. But that didn’t deter her.</p>
<p>Cass went on the offense. Snatching the brass clock off the table, Cass threw it at his head and struck while it was just smashing against the wall.</p>
<p>Weaponless, they fought. Jab for jab, more of Cass’ hits found home than not. The guard was hardly blocking.</p>
<p>She only spared a second to spot the other guard at the front door. Blade out once more, he was stabbing the front door. Into the frame. Breaking off the locks and handles. And finally kicking the door into the hall.</p>
<p>Her current opponent broke her headlock by raking his nails over her cut shoulder.</p>
<p>Cassandra hissed and it was all she could do to spring away when the other guard rejoined the fight with another swing for her head.</p>
<p>The guards were back to working as one against her. With much success. Where she attacked, they matched and advanced each move. It was obvious they had formal training but it was more than that. They knew her style. They read her like a book.</p>
<p>Zhan Tiri watched from Cass’ room with a hungry grin and Cass had no reason to doubt she’d told her pawns as much about her as she knew.</p>
<p>It was all the clearer when their hits began to zero in on her bad hand and knee.</p>
<p>Now their strategy changed gears: they weren’t focusing on bringing her down but on pushing her back. Cass was one step from her bedroom. Her exit-less bedroom.</p>
<p>Her Director was still calling out, still throttling his door, and she would’ve called back if the sweatiest guard hadn’t landed a kick to her chest. Air left her while her body flew through it. She hit the iron bedframe with a bell tower clang. It wasn’t clear if it was the frame that’d cracked or her ribs.</p>
<p>“Get down on the ground!” The first guard yelled over his shoulder.</p>
<p>A sunray caught a glint of silver and Cassandra was spinning away from a descending dagger then slammed against the wall.</p>
<p>The front of her shirt was cut, the top layer of skin beneath it also before she stopped the knife’s descent.</p>
<p>Cass and the guard cut each other with their panting breaths while they struggled, while the Stone raged inside her. Begging, demanding to be used. One last time.</p>
<p>Cass snarled at her attacker and push, push, pushed the rock through her forearm. It never breached, but the flashing of her devices was enough of a distraction to disarm the guard. Cass slashed through the guard’s unprotected thigh and flipped their positions while he howled.</p>
<p>And for all of a moment, Cassandra had no idea what happened. For one moment, four things happened all at once: The second guard ripped her off of the other by her hair, sent her smashing face first against the wall by ramming a broken seat block into the back of her MRD collar and into the wall, her devices went blank, and a quaking explosion, that felt like she’d just tasted fresh air for the first time in her life, flung both men far away from Cass.</p>
<p>The bliss warped back into a familiar suffocation in her core and her devices returned to solid blue. A shift of what sounded like rubble had Cassandra spinning on her heel, crimson-coated blade first.</p>
<p>The dagger fell from her trembling fingers. It’s clattering fall like a canon blast in the silent room. And it might as well have been.</p>
<p>For what towered before her was none other than a sentence for her death: Ten of them, from beyond the floor straight to the ceiling, as strong and true and black and blue as ever, were her rocks skewering through every part of two Royal guards. </p>
<p>The white bars over her window were now splattered in red. The walls. Her bed. Her hands. But her own blood was hidden. Completely hidden beneath sleeveless onyx armor that condemned her from shoulder to knee. The sight of her armor was like a childhood blanket but she found no comfort in it now.</p>
<p>Cassandra staggered back against the wall. She was a murderer. She’d just taken two lives. No, she’d actually taken three.</p>
<p>“Excellent. You have my thanks, Cassandra.”</p>
<p>Cass snatched up the fallen dagger at the words simpered from the doorway. She’d forgotten the girl was still there.</p>
<p>Zhan Tiri dabbed at the blood marring her pale features with a lace handkerchief as though it were drops of tea.</p>
<p>Cass crept forward not lowering her blade. She had to keep her gaze trained on the girl and not the bodies, not the foot dangling so loosely and so closely. She could smell the defecating of the men—</p>
<p>Cass forced bile down to whisper, “Thanks for what?”</p>
<p>Zhan Tiri gave a satisfied smile, a panther’s smile, and only said, “I don’t believe that could’ve gone better.” And then she was gone.</p>
<p>“Cassandra!”</p>
<p>Cass jumped at the muffled cry that came from across the suite. A sword tip was plunging in and out of the blocked door now, wood chips spewing out. She left her bedroom, careful not to look at the corpses.</p>
<p>Her Director called again, as frantic and angry as the sawing, “Cassandra, open the door!”</p>
<p>Her hand hovered over the wedged halberd. Now she looked back to the men. The Royal guards. They weren’t Royal guards, not as far as she knew, but it didn’t matter. That was what they would see. The guards, the Captain, the King, her Director. They would see the dead guards, slain by her rocks in her room, and—</p>
<p>Cassandra’ breath caught as she took in the rest of the suite.</p>
<p>The door, broken at the locks, broken outward, the signs of injuries from a fight on the guards, the undrawn sword on the guard now pierced through—immobile—with a black rock, all of the wreckage, and her Director. Trapped. Having seen nothing but having heard the cries of the guards.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tell the Captain the prisoner is attacking!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Get down on the ground!</em>
</p>
<p>This all pointed to her.</p>
<p>Cassandra backed away from the door and whispered, “This was a set up.”</p>
<p>Tiri hadn’t been planning to take the Stone, not today, not in this way. It was about her death, but not at her hands. Not so privately. Zhan Tiri didn’t take lightly to betrayal. She would see her obliterated for it.</p>
<p>“Cassandra, don’t do this!”</p>
<p>The sword had met the handle of the halberd now. Her Director continued to call for her, his voice beginning to crack in desperation the longer the silence dragged on.</p>
<p>Cass backed further away from him.</p>
<p>No one would believe her over the evidence in the room. He wouldn’t believe her. They were on different sides.</p>
<p>Cass steeled her stomach and her grip on the knife.</p>
<p>She had only one option left. One option to survive.</p>
<p>And over the ruins of the front door and out into the labyrinth of the palace, she took it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Keeping to the shadows of the Southern corridor, Cass held her breath as two guards approached. Her muscles coiled, prepared to spring into action again if need be, leading with the steady dagger in her hand.</p>
<p>Their voices grew closer until she could hear each intake of breath.</p>
<p>“… but I told him, ‘no I want the same haircut you give me every week, Don. This shouldn’t be a surprise—'”</p>
<p>“<em>Cassandra</em>.”</p>
<p>The blade flew into her other hand toward her Director’s hissed whisper and she flattened further against the wall. Heartbeat so loud in her ears she was sure every guard in the kingdom could hear.</p>
<p>Cass’ eyes widened and she silently pled with her Director to stay back. Stay still. Not to give her away. He couldn’t give her away right here. Not when she was so close to that back gate. The heat of the day had nothing to do with the beads of sweat that began racing down inside her armor.</p>
<p>Her Director remained silent though the disapproval written all over his face might as well have been a scream when it shifted to horror. When his gaze shifted to her blood slick knife.</p>
<p>“Cassandra,” He wilted against the wall with each whisper, “What—What did you <em>do?”</em></p>
<p>She knew he understood now. He’d seen the suite. The bodies. The wreckage. He couldn’t spare her this time. There would be no going back.</p>
<p>The second guard responded to the first, “—know Don, Ryan, he’s just too nice to come right out and tell you that you need a change.”</p>
<p>They were a hair’s breadth away.</p>
<p>Cass swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced between her Director’s face and the little black box in his hand. Her resolve hardened. If he so much as twitched when they passed…</p>
<p>“What!” The first guard squeaked, “What’re you—why you gotta pick on my hair? What about that beehive of yours?”</p>
<p>Cass couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe. Their shadows fell over her as they crossed by the adjacent gridded window.</p>
<p>“Alright fair enough, I see what you mean; A man’s hairstyle should be up to him.” The second guard conceded.</p>
<p>Other than lifting his eyes to the passing men, her Director remained just as motionless.</p>
<p>The door to the nearby cellar shut behind the guards.</p>
<p>Cass didn’t allow her muscles to relax. She pushed off the wall and backed her way to the garden gate. Knife and gaze trained on her Director.</p>
<p>She managed to find her voice when he took a step after her. “Let me go, Director.”</p>
<p>“Cass, the King will have you killed for this.” Her Director’s face crumpled in pain. “I can’t cover for you this time.”</p>
<p>Cass eyed the device still firmly in his hand. The device that would knock her out cold for a full day and doom her to a fate worse than any chain. “Exactly why you need to let me leave.”</p>
<p>The former Captain shook his head and spoke the words they both feared. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>Cassandra bolted for the gate.</p>
<p>She snapped the latch and yanked it open— only for her Director to slam against it. Cass careened back barely in time to dodge his swing of the device. A returning slash of her knife and he sprung away.</p>
<p>Cass shoved the latch again and kicked out at his chest when he came for her. The gate scraped her hands as he caught her mid-blow and jerked her back. Cass cried, “No!”</p>
<p>The device descended for the bare skin of her leg. Cass twisted in his hold and kicked it out of his grip and over their heads to land a stone’s throw away in the grass.</p>
<p>They both looked to the device and back. A narrowing of both sets of eyes. A last warning. And when he released her leg, neither held back.</p>
<p>Blow after blow. Neither pulled any of their punches, neither remembered they were anything to each other but prisoner and captor. Enemies.</p>
<p>When she got the upper hand with her Director’s back against the gate, Cassandra didn’t hesitate as she drove her blade through her Director’s arm—uniform to bone—then yanked it out. She let his scream launch her the meter to the device.</p>
<p>Device in hand, Cass made a mad dash for the gate—but a hard force dove into her side and slammed her to the ground. Her teeth sang with the force of the landing.</p>
<p>She stole a quick glance at where her knife had tumbled a yard away. Then fingers were prying her hand open.</p>
<p>She propelled her knees up into her Director’s torso with a desperate cry. It winded and distracted him enough that she was able to toss the device to the hand free from his grasp.</p>
<p>Her Director blocked the device inches from his neck. Breathless, he struggled to push her arm down, and he said, “Cass! Stop—!”</p>
<p>She kneed him again. The sharp armor bruising deeply and accurately. Cassandra flung a leg over his hip and rolled them over. Both of their arms shook and strained as the other tried to touch the device to skin.</p>
<p>Cass gasped as her Director leaned into her motion and rolled them again. Her armored back slammed into the barred gate making a clang ring throughout the grove.</p>
<p>“Did you hear that?” A distant voice from the palace walkways above asked.</p>
<p>“Sounds like it came from the garden!”</p>
<p>“Check the South gate!”</p>
<p>The guards’ distant words echoed down to Cass’ ears like an executioner’s drum beat. Sweat poured out of every crevice of her body.</p>
<p>Cass’ eyes zeroed in on her knife now barely a foot away. Her arms began to shake even harder against her Director’s unrelenting pressure. She glanced at the device mere inches from her face.</p>
<p>The pounding of guard’s boots down pavement and staircases grew louder. Cass couldn’t get a full breath down. This wasn’t going to be it. She would <em>not</em> accept defeat here. Not ever.</p>
<p>Her narrowed eyes met her Director’s and a snarl twisted her lips. “Let me <em>go</em>.”</p>
<p>The device gained an inch. Their joined hands almost tickling her nose.</p>
<p>Sweat streaked down her Director’s determined face.</p>
<p>“There! By the gate!” A guard shouted over the thundering in Cassandra’s ears. “It’s the prisoner! Alert the Captain; She’s trying to escape!”</p>
<p>Cass pushed with all she had against her Director’s grip, shoved against the gate with her feet and screamed, “<em>Let me go!”</em></p>
<p>Her father’s eyes guttered at the plea. But it was her sob of pure terror that followed that broke him.</p>
<p>He let go.</p>
<p>The device punched forward with the removal of resistance and knocked her Director out instantly.</p>
<p>Cass didn’t waste a second. In a flash, she swept the knife off the ground and flung herself over the gate. Through trees, brush, ponds, and beyond the city. Cassandra ran.</p>
<p>From behind and both sides of her rang calls and shouts. Closing in. They were closing in. She had to go faster.</p>
<p>“Stop her!”</p>
<p>“Don’t let her get away!”</p>
<p>“She’s headed toward Old Corona!”</p>
<p>“Don’t let her escape!”</p>
<p>Gasping down lungfuls of air, Cassandra ran faster. Harder. And she didn’t stop.</p>
<p>She’d never be able to again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See y'all tomorrow for... "The Pursuit"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Pursuit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thundering of hooves behind her. Beside her. Actual thunder joined in above.</p><p>“Cut her off!”</p><p>Arrows whizzed past Cassandra while horses changed directions. North. South. East. They surrounded her in every direction but the one leading back to the heart of the city.</p><p>They were bottlenecking her. She had to fight the strategy. She had to turn East.</p><p>The group of guards she’d expected were closer than she’d thought but sparser. Four of them. If she hadn’t already been in two fights and been running for her life for miles, the odds wouldn’t have daunted her. But she had and they did. This wasn’t the time to engage. Not if she could help it.</p><p>Cassandra skidded in the dirt to break left through a cluster of mosquitos and trees before the first rider’s boots hit the ground.</p><p>She was headed straight for the squadron blocking her from the North but hoped against hope they hadn’t known she’d changed directions and were still moving on. She would run behind them, past them, if only they didn’t find out—</p><p>“Over here, Captain!” Came a shout from behind her, “Northbound!”</p><p>Pounding hooves—armies of them— changed directions. Changed to charge straight back to her.</p><p>Cassandra didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The Stone’s power kept her legs from giving out beneath her, had been doing so since she’d first been attacked. It didn’t keep a sob from heaving out though. It didn’t keep the booming skies above from releasing a downpour either.</p><p>The soldiers behind her, their arrows, and the horses closing in from the sides were hindered by the forest Cass smashed, slipped, dove, and jumped through. But they were only aided by the rain.</p><p>Dirt floor turned to mud slides. Her tracks were deepened. Her pace slowed as the squelching ground sought to swallow her. It was impossible to tell what was solid beneath a puddle and what was a pit.</p><p>Cass tripped right over the lip of one. Mercifully, both her cry and the smack of her landing was hidden by the storm. So, were the next few meters of silver forest around her.</p><p>Cassandra launched to her feet.</p><p>If her vision was impaired, so was theirs.</p><p>Aching muscles, the throbbing cuts and bone deep bruises on her chest and shoulder, the terrain, all worked together to slow her. But she didn’t stop.</p><p>Each step was a splash; Her shoes more water than fabric now.</p><p>Each breath was like breathing in a glacier.</p><p>Each raindrop that bounced off her armor was a heralding chime.</p><p>The rain had let up just enough for the path to be a hair more visible but not enough to hear her own slopping progress. And not enough to hear the soldier’s behind her.</p><p>Armor clanged on armor as Cass was tackled but she didn’t hit the ground. She spun and was poised to strike with her rain-washed knife the instant she landed on top of the guard.</p><p>He grabbed her arm to keep the knife between them and blocked as she threw a punch for his clenched jaw. She threw all her weight into plunging the knife. He pressed back but remained otherwise still. It was like she was the one pinned instead.</p><p>A smirk lit the soldier’s face before she knocked him out with a rock to the temple.</p><p>She didn’t have time to stand.</p><p>A whistle through the air and a weight attached to her wrist. To her MRD cuff. A magnet; bound to a chain running back to—</p><p>Cassandra was snapped backwards off the guard and her arm screamed in protest. There was no traction for her to stop in the mud. She slipped all the way to the reeling soldier like she was a fish on a hook.</p><p>“No!” Rain rushed into her mouth. She kept her grip on her sole weapon while she was yanked, and yanked, and—A body sized tree root rushed up and Cass twisted through the mud to plant her feet against it.</p><p>Cass grunted as the silhouetted guard tugged. She had to get the magnet off. Her nails split, cracked, and turned the passing rain red but didn’t make a dent in prying off the magnet. Her whole body shook from the ice rain, her knees convulsed and screeched as the soldier continued pulling. The magnet was as wide and bulky as a hand but laid as flat to the cuff as though it were welded to it.</p><p>Cass snatched her knife from her other hand and began to work it underneath, shaking away the rain that blinded her. The tip found the crevice.</p><p>“C’mon, c’mon,” Cass strained, “Just a bit more…” She pushed and pried and it wiggled and move, move, moved. When she closed in to half way the guard threw his weight into a tug and though the root stood firm, it dislodged some of her progress.</p><p>Cass cried out, more rain rushing in, and jammed it back under. But when a third guard appeared, it didn’t matter. Another magnet chain was hurled for her leg and she dodged it—but at the cost of losing her anchor.</p><p>Cass slipped off the root and smacked into the mud, breathtakingly hard, as she was dragged away. She swam through layers and waves of mud that clung so tightly the pelting rain hardly made a dent. Rocks and twigs beat and scratched her unprotected arms. The cut on her shoulder blistered and began to weep anew.</p><p>The guards continued to reel her in and she wasn’t sure if it was the freezing mud, rain, or the sight of all four of them waiting to grab her that had her shaking. But she didn’t try to pry again with the knife. Other than struggling to her knees, she didn’t battle with the sloppy earth easing her way to her grave. She only clutched the knife and let them reel her in.</p><p>She took the time to breathe.</p><p>“Fun’s over! Drop the weapon!” A guard ordered, continuing to pull. He shouted over the storm to a comrade getting more shackles from his saddlebag, “You got the other ones?”</p><p>Two soldiers about as filthy as her jogged the remaining distance and reached for her outstretched bound arm.</p><p>Cass sprung to her feet.</p><p>A handful of mud blinded the closest man. She was prepared to duck under the whining swing of the other guard’s blade but didn’t need to. The guard holding her bind did the work for her, snagging her out of the path. About snagging her arm out of its socket too.</p><p>The pulling guard’s snarl was visible through the downpour. “Come here!”</p><p>“If you insist.” She greeted him with both feet to his armored chest, knocking him back into his comrade.</p><p>The first guard had recovered from the blinding. The other two righted themselves and the coiled chains jingled in their hands. All waited. Watched. Ready to snap.</p><p>Cassandra shoved a mud-clumped strand of wet hair behind her ear.</p><p>A horse—not one of theirs— whinnied all too close behind her and broke the standoff.</p><p>The guards rushed forward and a new magnet chain was bowled for her knife hand. She ripped away for it to latch onto the opposite guard’s breastplate. A single kick solved two of her problems once the guard at the other end of the chain rammed himself into her fist.</p><p>Her chain was yanked again and the second chain bearer recovered to attack her from behind.</p><p>The rain increased and the mud became yet another opponent. For each side. Slipping. Sliding. Each blow exchanged on unsure footing could’ve determined the victor. But the guard never released her chain. So, Cassandra took a fall and swept her chain under her opponents, taking them down with her.</p><p>Swords were ignored. Knives, fists, and nails ruled. Cries of pain, demands of surrender, showers of blood all competed with the thunder and rain. Too much of the blood sprayed was her own.</p><p>Cass didn’t get to her feet again until she was the last creature of mud still twitching. She took the time to make sure they were all still breathing. Only then did she finally free herself of the chain.</p><p>Dryness, unshed tears, and gritty dirt in every swallow, Cass staggered away from the fallen soldiers. Their horses had fled. She could hear more coming. Cass clutched the worst of her cuts—the shreds of tissue and muscle dangling out of her bicep—before swiping and buckling one of the soldier’s swords and belt around her hips.</p><p>“I see her!”</p><p>Cass started at the call from behind and she forced herself back into a run. Her feet found more holes and tree stumps than before. It took longer getting up.</p><p>She could almost feel the puffs of horse’s breaths down her neck. The coarse strangulating fibers of a noose around her neck. Tightening. Tightening. She needed air…she needed…she needed…</p><p>She needed lightning.</p><p>Yes.  <em>No more rain, just lightning,</em> Cass pleaded to the charcoal sky.</p><p>Guard procedure dictated patrols to return to shelter in the event of lightning. She’d be free if only lightning would come. Of course, bound in as much metal as she was, she was just as likely to die by a bolt. She needed to find shelter too.</p><p>She needed lightning. She needed shelter. She needed to stop bleeding. And to go faster.</p><p>Cass whacked into a mossy tree as she slipped through a turn. She wasn’t sure she could actually go as fast as she was already going.</p><p>A pine cone bearing branch was shot off by an arrow and smacked her shoulder on the way down.</p><p>“I’m on her tail, Captain! I’ve got—!”</p><p>Whatever the guard was going to say next was cut off by the largest crack as a bolt of lightning struck a tree not too far to their left.</p><p>Cassandra pushed herself to keep going and laughed through a sob. She laughed and cried as the horses behind her changed directions back to the palace. She laughed and she didn’t stop running.</p><hr/><p>After a few close calls with the lightning and departing patrols, it wasn’t a moment too soon when Cass found a vacant cave to crawl into. Cave being a generous word. It was more of a pile of sun-bleached rocks overtaken with pine-needles and dried sap that was too small for a bear to claim. And too sticky. Cass didn’t care.</p><p>Muddy, bloody, soaked, and drained, Cassandra dropped into a nap the instant she entered. It lasted until the lightning moved on. The rain was still endless and even more blinding when she startled awake to some of it flooding into her nose. Cass flung away the cluster of pine needles it’d swept into her nose too and groaned when the movement jostled her… everything—it’d been so long since she’d had an intense workout much less been in a fight— and most of all her bicep.</p><p>With so much dirt covering the wound, it was hard to tell its state but by how it burned, she was certain it was on its way to infection. It didn’t look as bad as it had right after the fight, nothing was hanging out where it wasn’t supposed to be anymore, and she wasn’t sure is that was because she hadn’t been able to see too well at that time or if the Moonstone had something to do with it.</p><p>“Where were you in the dungeons?” Cass muttered to herself.</p><p>The mini stream responsible for waking her was the only threat to the safety of the den at the moment, and no more royal guards were breathing down her neck so Cass just sat further back in the space and planned out her next steps.</p><p>Step one: Better coverage. Both in way of shelter and disguise.</p><p>Underneath all the mud that had dried to feel more permanent than her own skin but would wash away the second she stepped outside, she wasn’t sure which was more of a dead give-away: Her luminescent blue hair, her armor, the large and hideous brand on her arm, or the five clunky cuffs encircling her.</p><p>She hadn’t been out in the city for six months now but she was fairly certain no other citizen was outfitted with any of those things. It might’ve been easier to slip by unnoticed under the cover of nightfall if the cuffs and brand were her only concern, but her hair was like a beacon.</p><p>Cassandra brushed off some of the mud caking her face and sighed. For the first time she wished she didn’t have the cursed Moonstone. Rather than keep her safe with its power, it just might be the thing that gets her killed. If she can’t get the devices off soon that was.</p><p>That was the next course of action. Cass swallowed more dry dirt. Right after clean water.</p><p>Then once concealed and in proper control of her power again…</p><p>She wasn’t sure what would come after that.</p><p>Cass fought the urge to sink back down for another nap and crept out of the cave. Sure enough, mud began to wash off of her like fresh paint the second she stepped into the storm. If only the blood on her hands would leave so easily. All the memories…</p><p>A flash in the distance and Cassandra scanned the area. There was no one and nothing but her and the trees and whatever creatures were lurking in their burrows and nests. The slightest flash of purple turned out to be a quail rushing with her babies under a bush but Cass moved on from the area just the same.</p><p>She didn’t know where to begin in unraveling the matter with Zhan Tiri. She knew her end game, but she didn’t know what she had planned for the next part. She only knew she was the main pawn of it. And that was as much as knowing nothing.</p><p>She could only focus on her plans and steps for now. She’d leave step three to be determined later. One and two were enough. Concealment and completing her freedom: Those were her top priorities.</p><p>Cass turned South. Toward Old Corona and the little lab and its rat within.</p><p>She would gather water along the way. Shelter could wait a bit longer. She was starting with step two.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this chapter didn't quite turn out as I imagined it, it was epic in my head, but I couldn't figure out how to get it where I wanted it so this was the result. I hope it was still enjoyable?</p><p>See ya next chapter for... "The Priority"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Priority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All right you Varian fans, your chapter has COME! I meant to get this chapter up this past weekend but inspiration didn't fully kick in til yesterday so SURPRISE MID-WEEK UPDATE! :D</p><p>To ZoneRobotnik: I put something you commented about chapters ago in this chapter just for you!</p><p>There is a reference in this chapter to the first one-shot of "Strength of Heart" so if you haven't read that you won't fully appreciate part of it. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>One day later</em>
</p><p> </p><p>From under the cover of a rain-slick stone shed and a farmhand’s tattered hat and coat, Cassandra watched another patrol march past.</p><p>That made for the seventh in the last hour. A half dozen guards in each.</p><p>It was a struggle to keep the puffs of smoke coming from her “borrowed” pipe slow and innocent.</p><p>The Guard had infested the city before she’d arrived. Her face and crimes once again plastered on every flat surface.</p><p>She had to hand it to them on their quick work with the posters. From the looks of the one glaring back at her from an adjacent oak, they weren’t reused. No chance the old ones depicted her with the MRD around her neck or bearing the Mark of Treason. The wild strain—feral really—in her eyes Cass chalked up to the poster artist’s penchant for exaggeration. There was no part of her in reality that was so unhinged.</p><p><em>Because murdering two people is a completely hinged thing to do,</em> a voice that sounded far too much like her Twin grumbled in the back of her mind.</p><p>Another puff of smoke stumbled into the heels of the last. It didn’t block Cass’ view of a new band of lanterns and their bearers slopping into the forest to join the leagues of others.</p><p>Even through the unending rain and the night that was just bleeding into dawn, the Guard continued to search and march. And march and search. And search some more. The stones of the column she was tucked behind had to be the only ones they hadn’t turned. And that was sure to change all too soon.</p><p>Just as she’d had to leave the tree-line once their patrols had started to spread, Cass would have to give up her spot for another before anyone in the house she was huddled up against awoke. But that was fine. Her next cover—her destination—was right across the yard.</p><p>The bean-pole boy tinkering about in the lab’s window hadn’t noticed her once in the last hour so that wasn’t an issue. The patrols trudging by every eleven seconds were.</p><p>Eleven seconds; that was her window. Not long enough for her to stroll over as a friendly neighbor stopping by. Not long enough for anything other than a mad dash across the mud.</p><p>It was the only chance she had.</p><p>The muddy tracks on the lab steps wouldn’t be an issue. The rain was falling hard and steady enough to sweep her trail clean. Hopefully it would be enough to cover the ones in the road too.</p><p>A creaking floor in the house behind her decided that was as much planning as she could afford. It was time to act.</p><p>Another patrol came… and once the last back of a muddy boot was out of sight, Cass ran.</p><p>Eleven seconds ran even faster.</p><p>Seven got her to the edge of the farm’s land.</p><p>The slapping of splashing mud puddles had to be loud enough to wake the continent by eight seconds.</p><p>Cass’ breath as she flew up the stairs was sharper than the raining icicles at nine.</p><p>Ten scorched her with the first glows of the guard’s lanterns, what had to be the weight of every knowing eye in the kingdom, and the iron door handle giving way under her hand.</p><p>Her back was against the inside of the closed door by eleven. Cass spared a second to melt in the blanket-warmth of the lab. She’d made it.</p><p>Once her breathing wasn’t out pacing the water leaking from her clothes and shoes—which she stepped out of right away, the things were more rain and mud than fabric now—Cass crept through the dark hallway to the next door. A single trip rope trap was easily avoided.</p><p>Varian didn’t turn around as the lab’s interior door opened and she stepped through. He didn’t even pause in mixing whatever the frothy grey gunk was in a bowl on an overcrowded table. He did interrupt his mutterings to say, “Can’t talk right now, dad! Pretty critical point for the battery.”</p><p>Light from the patrol’s lanterns grew in the window and Cass flattened against the tarp covered wall, fading into the shadows. The chilled hilt of her sword and dagger clenched in each palm.</p><p>The front door of the house opened. A large figure—Quirin—stomped down the steps to greet the patrol.</p><p>The patrol that wasn’t passing by.</p><p>Varian continued on, “Please just leave the grilled cheese on the—uh—well any where’s fine and go enjoy your—”</p><p>The mixing bowl belched its contents onto the entire work surface and Cass had Varian silenced and pinned between her and her knife before the first words of greeting left the men outside. The bowl rolled to join where they laid frozen under the window. Pressed so close, Cass felt Varian twitch for the bowl. She let the pressing of her blade against his throat put a stop to that idea.</p><p>“Captain asked us to check-in again, sir,” A guard said over the storm. Young. Focused. Strong. “Any sightings of the escaped prisoner?”</p><p>Varian huffed into her hand as Quirin said, “No. Not yet at least. Just the same, I’m on my way to check with the neighbors.”</p><p>“Stay with your son, Quirin. I’m making rounds to each house,” The sandpaper voice of a different guard—the Lieutenant—spoke up, “The witch was seen headed in this direction hours ago. Captain thinks it’s possible she slipped in during the worst of the storm or… someone’s harboring her. And if that’s the case, I’ll be bringing in more than one traitor.”</p><p>“Arrest happy, Lieutenant?” Quirin said over the rain, over his own stomping steps up the stairs. The <em>lab</em> stairs. “I haven’t seen her. My son’s been holed up in here all week, but I can ask him again if he’s seen anything.”</p><p>The exterior door’s handle clicked as Quirin set to pull it open. Cass hadn’t closed the interior door. All it would take was one look inside.</p><p>Cass tightened her hold on her captive. Each heart raced the other.</p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” Lt. Maynard said, “Another patrol will be by shortly. Let them know if you’ve seen her or there’s been any unusual activity.”</p><p>The door handle was released. Quirin descended the steps wishing the guards luck in their search but Cass didn’t relax until the men departed and their lantern lights faded to nothing.</p><p>The front door to the house never sounded. It could’ve been covered by the storm, but she couldn’t bet on it. Quirin was most likely still lurking about somewhere on the farm’s acreage. A set of eyes, ears, and a loud mouth she didn’t need.</p><p>Cass ignored her captive’s flinch and watched the open window as she whispered in his ear, “I’m going to remove my hand now. You’re not going to call out, you’re not going to touch anything I don’t explicitly tell you to, and I might let you survive this. Got it?”</p><p>She pulled the knife away at his muffled agreement but kept it out. Kept it ready. The boy, the doors, and the window that was currently showing only sheets of rain in the grey dawn kept her focus as she sat up.</p><p>The kid smoothing his hole splattered vest—burn holes, most likely from another experiment gone rogue—had eyes only for her. And the dagger in her hand. As he should.</p><p>Varian’s laugh had him shying a bit inward as he muttered, “Probably should’ve taken Eugene up on relocating to the palace, after all. But I didn’t think you’d, ya know, come after me. Again. But here you are. Not—not that it’s not nice to see you again, Cassandra! Here, and free, and armed and kidnapping me again, it’s great.” A cleared throat. “Small world.”</p><p>“Small world,” She echoed.</p><p>“Rapunzel and Eugene filled me in on some of the events of the palace this year but it’s obviously not the same as hearing it from you so—” A shaky toothy smile, front buck teeth as rabbit-like as ever. “How’ve you been?”</p><p>The silence descended between them again. If half the Coronan army wasn’t still circling just beyond the door and every citizen in the kingdom waking to read her new wanted posters and the bold red words at the top that meant she didn’t necessarily have to be executed by <em>the Guard</em>, she would’ve been happy to let the silence remain. It was quite golden. Preferable. But, “I’m not here to visit, Varian,” Cass said, “I need you to get these off.”</p><p>Cass shed her stolen overcoat and let Varian see his cursed creations. His gaze lingered on the bright gash on her bicep and then the brand on her other arm.</p><p>Cass shifted that out of his view. For some reason that was what prompted a reaction.</p><p>“No, Cass, you don’t have to hide that from me. I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just—” The kid kept a hand lifted in innocence while he folded his shirt back to bare his shoulder, or more specifically, the stark white <em>T</em> maring it. “They gave me one too.”</p><p>Cass hadn’t been at his trial, preparing for the journey to the dark kingdom with Rapunzel instead. And neither had her Director as he’d still been recovering. She knew Varian had committed treason, but… he was so young. She never guessed they branded him too. And each time she’d seen Varian since his release, he’d only worn long sleeves.</p><p>She blinked. “They let you cover it?”</p><p>“I was pardoned and not a danger anymore,” Varian said, righting his shirt and shifting like he had a subtle itch he was too afraid to scratch outright. “Still doesn’t mean the market isn’t a ghost town when I pick up bread for me and my dad at the peak of lunchtime but… you know, ya get used to it. The outcasting, I mean. Not the picking up bread for my dad and me part, that’d just be strange.”</p><p>Varian had been an awkward kid and prone to ramble ever since she’d known him, but this was overboard. He was either stalling for Quirin or—It clicked as his shifting got him within reach of the copper mixing bowl.</p><p>Cass snapped forward with her knife. “Back against the wall.”</p><p>Eyes nearly as wide as the bowl, Varian complied. The flickering lanterns and slopping of another patrol passed by and he was smart enough not to make a sound. She didn’t trust him to do the same for more passes.</p><p>“Cute bonding attempt. But no more distractions.” Cass pushed the bowl behind her. “Remove the devices. Tell me what you need to do that.”</p><p>At a thunder clap, Varian jumped and looked to the window and back. “I need your word that you’re not going to attack Corona again.”</p><p>“The devices. Tell me what you need to remove the devices.”</p><p>The Stone was writhing in her chest, a dragon clawing for free reign. Uncaring of the deep bruises. Uncaring of any pain. She was so close. It was so close to freedom. Its magic shone through her eyes and reflected off her blade.</p><p>A shadow crossed Varian’s face, as dark and stony as the walls around them. “I won’t tell you how to remove them if you’re just going to repeat what you did at the festival. No matter how many times you ask me to—”</p><p>“I’m not asking, Varian.”</p><p>It wasn’t her iron tone, the Stone’s glow, or her blade but rather her crawling closer that made Varian flatten further against the wall. Or maybe it was a combination of all four. She was close enough to see that it wasn’t stray raindrops that sprouted on Varian’s brow as he grandly said, “Oh.”  </p><p>Another patrol passed by but her voice and body remained low enough that she didn’t fear detection. “I’ve been locked in your devices every second for the past year.”</p><p>His lanky legs drew back to join the rest of his huddled form. “I know.”</p><p>“I’m not going out those doors with them still cutting into me.”</p><p>The stench of leaked urine rolled off of Varian but it was a sweet smell. It meant he was ready to tell her. He would give her just what she needed. He shook as he told her, “Did—did you get the salve?”</p><p>Cass’ dagger found its home in the stone wall by his ear. A tear of blood slid down the cartilage from where she’d nicked him.</p><p>Cass’ breath knocked a loose eyelash from Varian’s cheek as she growled, “Get these off. Now.”</p><p>“You’re the only one that can.”</p><p>Cass froze at the whimpered words. She analyzed every twitch of the kid’s face. “Explain.”</p><p>“The M.R.Ds work like reversed magnets or mirrors. They use the energy—the power of the Moonstone to force the—"</p><p>“Open your eyes.”</p><p>He jumped but obeyed. “To force the Moonstone’s power back and hold together. To externalize the Moonstone is the only way for the devices to fail and therein release.”</p><p>The devices resisted picking. They had no keyhole. They didn’t contain her power for that sole moment Zhan Tiri’s men smashed one against the wall but it sprung right back the moment after. It shouldn’t be possible, it shouldn’t make sense, and yet… it did. And the only way for them to come off, for her to get to the Stone, was to… to give it up.</p><p>She had to give up the Stone.</p><p>Those calculating baby blue eyes were flitting about, landing anywhere but on her this time and Cass yanked her knife from the wall to jab its tip under Varian’s chin. “You expect me to believe that load of—”</p><p>“No, I’m telling the truth!”</p><p>Cass ticked her head to the side. A bucket of purple filled vials not too far from them caught her eye. “Do I need to test you under your serum again? I got great results last time.”</p><p>His hesitancy was all the answer she needed.</p><p>Cass waited for another patrol to pass to move back and say, “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.” She waited for him to comply. “Tell me where you keep your acids and you’ll live to finish your invention of sludge.”</p><p>“It’s a battery,” He muttered but a stomp to his side was all it took to get, “Bottom drawer!”</p><p>She checked the top two drawers instead and found the acid in the second. She didn’t dare open the mammoth third. For all she knew that racoon of his could be waiting to pop out with another amber gun.</p><p>After gagging the alchemist with the belt of the farmhand’s coat and warning him not to move, Cass set to corroding her cuffs. Every last one of them.</p><p>The last one around her neck was no sooner ripped off of sighing skin when the Moonstone came alive. Exploded was the best word for what everything outside of Cass—Varian and the lab—must’ve felt. Blossomed was the best word for what it truly was. Heaven-sent. Glorious.</p><p>Every rock peak she’d endured piercing her, always standing firm beneath her skin for the past hundreds of days evaporated. Once crushed bones were renewed with steel. Hunger was forgotten. The need for sleep a thing of the past. Weak was a category she fell under no longer.</p><p>The sheer power convinced her she could fly. The relief, however, allowed for nothing but sagging against the wall with a smile so big and true it brought tears to her closed eyes.</p><p>When she opened them, her completed armor was the first thing she saw. Bolder and deadlier than midnight. It felt like home. There was only one thing missing.</p><p>“You can turn around now,” She said to her captive who’d been very good at staying still. The event called for a witness.</p><p>Varian didn’t try to touch his gag as he turned, but his ghostly paling when he saw her spoke for him. His pallor took on more of a greenish tint when Cassandra reached out and the floor began to rumble.</p><p><em>Just one,</em> she commanded the Stone. Not one for the kid, but one to wield.</p><p>A moment later, one sprouted from the floor. Cass hefted it up and caressed its razor edges. Sleeker and slimmer than the one the Guard still retained; her new sword fit in her hand better than the first Shadow Blade. It was hard to tell if it was her smile or the black and blue grooved weapon that sparkled most in her reflection.</p><p>Half a thought had her armor receiving the sword into its new home at her back. A glance at the kid and she turned on her heel for the exit. “I would say thanks for your aid, but I don’t have time to waste on lies,” She said, “Feel free to remove the gag, by the way.”</p><p>“Cassandra,” Varian called, not out the window or above the rain, just to her.</p><p>Cass stopped at the threshold and eyed the vials on the nearest table. She really shouldn’t leave him cognizant. He’d run crying to his dad or the guards and turn her in the instant she left. Not that they were much of a threat to her anymore, but she could do without another fight just yet.</p><p>“Where—where are you headed?” Varian asked.</p><p>Cassandra glided over to the crowded workspace. It was a marvel to move so freely. No chains, no pain. Her next course of action was still undecided but she answered him with an option, “To make a new home for myself.” She pulled an oval shaped vial filled with white powder out of a box labeled ‘Highly toxic! Do not open without at least an hour of sleep’, and lifted it to the light, saying as she swirled the contents, “Strychnine, nice. But you shouldn’t play around with poisons, kid. Trust me, been there swallowed that. Not fun.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can’t imagine it would be.” Varian breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she set the vial down and moved onto another case. “Wait. You’re <em>leaving?</em> What—what about your dad?”</p><p>Cass arched a brow. Maybe she’d kicked the kid too hard. “What about him?”</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“I know you spend more time in your lab than in the real world, Varian, but you should know forests don’t tend to gossip all that much.”</p><p>Varian struggled to his feet and said, “The king had him arrested for letting you escape. He’s on trial tonight and the guards said he’s—he’s—”</p><p>While Varian gathered his words, Cass continued to rummage through the supplies of every sort. Geez, the kid had enough corrosives to crater the entire kingdom if he wasn’t careful.</p><p>Varian finished, “They say he’s going to be sentenced to death.”</p><p>The glass clinking gave way to only the rain as she stilled.</p><p>She stilled, but didn’t turn. She forced her voice to stay level, detached, “So?”</p><p>“Cass, they’re going to kill him because of you! You have to stop it!” Varian’s voice cracked with the passion of his plea. Hanging around the Princess too much will do that.</p><p>She selected an orb of familiar blue powder and crossed to the door. “He’s not my priority.”</p><p>“What? No! Cass, wait! You’re his only chance—!”</p><p>Covering her airways, Cassandra tossed the sleep drought over her shoulder and took the shattering of the vial and the thump of the teen’s unconscious body hitting the floor as her que to leave.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Hugs for you all* </p><p>See ya next chapter for... "The Decision"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arctic water alone touched Cassandra’s wrists as she rinsed off a pile of wild grapes in a babbling brook. No chains, no devices; just water and fluttering shadows of the tiring pumpkin forest.</p><p>Her mismatched gloves lay discarded on the grass from the moment she stopped to drink and she didn’t have plans to put them back on anytime soon.</p><p>She was free.</p><p>Drawing the grapes from the water, Cass had the idea to fling them away in every direction just because she could. If she hadn’t battled a gang of bug-eyed squirrels for rights to the fruit, she just might.</p><p>Instead, flashing her eyes at a squirrel still pouting from the vines, Cass stretched out on the grass and dined.</p><p>The Moonstone’s strength kept her from true hunger but there was more to food than necessity. The sour bursts in her mouth were the perfect reminder of that and the perfect harmony to her sweet surroundings. Open, quiet, guard-free.</p><p>Her mother’s cottage had never looked so nice.</p><p>Cass directed the Stone to retract her boots before crossing her ankles. Those areas of pink band-scarred skin needed to soak up the free air too. There was plenty to go around and she was in no rush.</p><p>“Enjoying your picnic?”</p><p>Cassandra had a rock spike at the hollow of the speaker’s neck before she finished.</p><p>The speaker—her twin—arched a brow. “Nice to see a year in prison hasn’t dulled your reflexes.”</p><p>Cass retracted the spike and turned back with a huff. Stretching out was forgotten, she reformed her boots instead and scanned the woods. “What do <em>you</em> want?”</p><p>“Well before you almost lanced me through with a rock, you looked so peaceful I thought I’d join.” The twin mirrored her earlier position on the grass. “Strange spot you picked but nice enough. Oh! Mind if I have some of those?”</p><p>Cass waved permission to help herself to the tiny cluster of grapes left and tugged on her gloves. “Were you followed?”</p><p>“Don’t think so. Wow, do these look juicy!” The twin smelled the grapes on a mini-cliff stone but still didn’t touch. What a kook. “You know dad loves these.”</p><p>A single thought had her sword in hand and a flat stone in the other. Cass dropped beside the lip of the brook to sharpen the sword. Facing <em>away</em> from her.</p><p>The twin continued just the same, “Do you remember that time when we brought him grapes as a surprise at work but it was just before a knighting ceremony began? Dad bowed to the king and queen before offering them the ceremonial sword and—”</p><p>“The whole bunch of grapes fell out of his pocket and some bounced into the crowd,” Cass finished. “Yes, I remember.”</p><p>Her twin’s laugh bubbled with the brook. “Afterward, he’d been more upset about losing some of our gift than ruining the decorum of the moment. We promised to find him more later to cheer him up.”</p><p>“And it did.”</p><p>“And it did,” The twin seconded. “I was actually surprised to see he hadn’t started his own vineyard of them back at the cottage.”</p><p>Cass rolled her eyes and continued swiping alongside the unused weapon. “They are his favorites.”</p><p>“Yep,” Her twin mused and it prompted Cass to find her examining the fruit again as a parade of napkin-bibbed ants crept up. “Wonder if he’ll request them for his last meal tonight.”</p><p>Her sharpening stopped.</p><p>Cassandra sheathed the sword and stood. “So that’s why you’re here.”</p><p>“Because…?”</p><p>“You want me to turn myself in too. For him.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to die if that’s what you’re thinking.” The twin said and flicked at an ant. She missed. “I’m on your side. And dad’s.”</p><p>“He’s not on my side,” Cassandra hissed. How many times were they going to have this conversation? “He’s chosen Rapunzel, Fitzherbert, himself, and all of Corona over me every time since this began!”</p><p>“And remind me again just who <em>you’ve</em> chosen every time?” Her twin tapped her chin in thought. “Oh, that’s right: Yourself.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about this with you.” A carpet of red and brown leaves and twigs crackled with Cass’ every step away from the once relaxing-spot. <em>She</em> could keep it. Her and her memories and preaching.</p><p>“Well, I never thought I would see this day,” Her twin said, leaning against the tree in front of Cass, arms crossed.</p><p>Cassandra looked back to the spot she’d just been and saw no one but the squirrels moving in on the ants and grapes. She shook the mystery away. “What day?”</p><p>A once-over glance brought a deep scowl to the twin’s face. “The day we become a coward.”</p><p>A black rock shot through the tree where the twin’s head had been. Lucky dodge.</p><p>“If I go back, they win,” Cass snarled, “Rapunzel wins. <em>Zhan Tiri</em> wins.”</p><p>Her twin had the nerve to shrug. “If you don’t go back, you don’t win either.”</p><p>The ivory castle cresting just over the trees drew Cass’ eye. She hadn’t decided on a plan for her third step yet. But the Sundrop was in the majority of the options she’d mulled over. All of those did require her to return to the castle. But that was for the bedroom in the tallest tower, not the throne room where her Director would be tried for his crimes in…</p><p>Cassandra found the sun just to the west, still red in dusk.</p><p>Now. He was on trial now.</p><p>“I can’t go back,” Cass insisted.</p><p>If she returned to the palace it would be for the Princess. Back in that tower like she’d tried only a few months ago. And this time— oh <em>this time</em>— she would not hesitate. “I will go back,” She told her twin, “I’ll go back for the Sundrop.”</p><p>Her twin wasn’t impressed. “And what about dad?”</p><p>Once she had the stone it wouldn’t take any effort to stop by the throne room. That would be her own destination at that point after all. “Fine,” Cass said, “Him too.”</p><p>“Okay.” Her twin nodded; any real approval absent. “And what about after? They’ll never stop hunting either of you down. Corona’s <em>allies</em> will never stop hunting you.”</p><p>Her magic lurched at that and brought a smile to her face. “Once I have both of the Stones, I’ll be the only one doing any hunting.”</p><p>“Great, where you gonna start? The local orphanage or the Sweetshop where most kids can watch their parents try to fight you before they meet their own demise? Better watch your back, they’ll be armed with lollipops.”</p><p>Cass ignored the comment but revised her plan. A better one dawning. A more fitting one. “I won’t kill Rapunzel.”</p><p>Her twin gave her best owl impression before lighting up. “Your first good idea in a while, I’ll support it.”</p><p>“I’ll give her the same choice they’ve given me.”</p><p>“And what’s that?”</p><p>“Her father’s life or the Stone.”</p><p>Cass left the tree line. Her twin followed her, arguing and picking apart her motives in a way that would make Zhan Tiri jealous. Cass ignored every word.</p><p>At the forest’s edge, Cassandra turned to seek out the old cottage’s threshold. The spot where she had both lost and gained a parent. Lost and gained a life.</p><p><em>“You’re safe with me, Little one.” </em>Words spoken at the door and repeated on the day her adoption by the guardsman was made official. Words that were reaffirmed in his guttering eyes the day he let her go.</p><p>When Cass yanked out of her hold for a third time, her twin growled, “You want to lose everyone that’s ever cared about you? Then keep walking.”</p><p>She did.</p><p>Her twin caught up to her side, stormy eyes overflowing with desperation. “You kill the king, Cassandra, and there’s no coming back. No second chance, no redemption.”</p><p>Cassandra kept walking. “It’s already too late for that.”</p><p>“You’re not a murderer!"</p><p>Flashes of the guard corpses on her rocks made her stumble, but she didn’t stop. She left the images behind and strode into the clearing of the apple tree lined trail.</p><p>“It’s already too late,” Cass said, and was finally left alone with her rolling power and the bridge to her destiny.</p>
<hr/><p>The village square smiled with floral banners, flags, and paper mache gophers despite a week’s passing of the Goodwill Festival. The marketplace was also packed elbow-to-elbow despite public knowledge of her escape. Trust in the Guard and the Royal Family to bring swift justice flitted about on the lips of all. But the minute she stepped into sight, they choked on their words.</p><p>Not a wheel on a child’s wagon squeaked, no horse or bleached shopkeeper twitched. They just watched.</p><p>Cassandra watched in return. And let her power turn the air to static. “Crescent high above.”</p><p>Screams competed with rocks snapping up through cobblestone streets. Half of the crowd ran inside or behind the nearest shelters. The other half threw what they could find at her head.</p><p>Nothing got past her rocks. Taller than every home and shop, the stones breached to form bordering walls. To forge her path straight into the castle’s heart.</p><p>This was the only decision to make.</p><p>Guards fought to flood in, each new wave of rocks filtered them out. The rocks didn’t block their shouts. <em>Monster.</em> <em>Traitor. Killer.</em></p><p>There wouldn’t be any mercy.</p><p>“Shoot her! Bring her down!”</p><p>No arrow or musket could reach to keep her from breaking through the doors of the castle and on into the half-full throne room.</p><p>She could not fail.</p><p>The trial came to a halt as the queen was rushed out with a security detail. Walls of new rocks bordering the royal carpet kept everyone else in their place. A royal raised hand was all that kept the crossbow archers on the dais aiming and shouting their warnings at her instead of firing.</p><p>Rapunzel was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“What are you doing!” Her gaping Director, in chains and man-handled by four guards at the foot of the dais, could barely be heard over all the soldiers. An easy spike sliced his binds to pieces. “Cassandra, no! Get out of here!”</p><p>She could not fail. She could not hesitate.</p><p>The Captain kept barking orders to his men, “Ladders!” And to her, “Take this wall down right now!”</p><p>She wouldn’t.</p><p>The King was only three stairs away.</p><p>Cass drew her sword and took the first.</p><p>His death meant victory.</p><p>The second stair.</p><p>Surrendering meant her death.</p><p>
  <em>You’re not a murderer!</em>
</p><p>There was only one option for her; a soldier bred. A soldier’s calling. A soldier’s glory.</p><p>She whispered an apology over her shoulder to her Director. He might not recognize it for glory. But she was ready.</p><p>Steadying her blade and her legs, Cass took a breath… And dropped to her knees.</p><p>Her sword staked in the top stair. Her fingers laced behind her head. Cassandra said to the king, “I surrender.”</p><p>The cool of the knock-out device on the back of her neck was the last thing remembered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Thanksgiving, guys!  :D<br/>See ya next chapter for... "The Last Request"</p><p>*Update* 12/15/20- I apologize for the wait everyone! I'm having trouble with my hands and with word flow but this story will be completed by New Years Eve so not to worry, last four chapters (and many one-shots) coming super soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Last Request</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Depending on when you read this: Happy New Years Eve or Happy New Year!!! :D *Confetti*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stand up straight.”</p><p>Cassandra’s back hit the dungeon wall as the guards on each arm forced her to follow Lieutenant Maynard’s order.</p><p>“Mark down five seven for height,” The guard in front of Cass relayed to the notetaker, “And—Russ, hand me the other one."</p><p>A smooth fabric tape measure snaked around her neck and was pinched off to where she couldn’t take a full breath. A teasing preview for the morning to come.</p><p>“And mark… eleven for the neck,” The guard finished and slid the tape free letting its metal tip nick her skin on its way off. “Lieutenant.”</p><p>“Alright, Captain needs an update of her weight too.” Maynard jerked his chin toward the yellow-glassed spring-scale on the opposite side of the fifth level’s doorway. “Bring her up there. Gag comes off; she won’t be wearing it tomorrow and he needs an accurate reading down to the ounce.”</p><p>The notetaker pulled his nose out of the folder for the first time since she’d been dragged from her cell and blissful oblivion. “Sir. The armor?”</p><p>Cassandra took a fresh lungful of air as the muzzle was removed and clenched her chained hands behind her back where a leather belt around her hips kept them snug.</p><p>Pieces of her suit had already been stripped away upon her return to consciousness—her boots, the gloves, and the diameters beneath her cuffs so that the MRDs were reacquainted with her skin and the power that paced beneath—no doubt thanks to the assistance of her Shadow Blade again. Or possibly <em>blades</em> as she’d now lost possession of two.</p><p>“Up ya go now,” The meaty guard on the right said, pushing her onto the scale.</p><p>The suit of black rocks was the last thing— other than its source— left that Cass could call hers. But it wouldn’t surprise her to have it taken too. Surrendering her life required more than just her death.</p><p>The numbers spun by in the glass scale surpassing one hundred and fifty pounds.</p><p>“Stop, take her down,” Maynard said, “The armor’s too heavy. Get her to the washroom and remove it there.”</p><p>The guard on her left spoke up, “What… clothing do we put her in, Sir?”</p><p>“Go ahead and change her into tomorrow’s ceremonials.” Maynard flashed her a smile. “Speeds the morning along.”</p><p>One bath and wardrobe change in a windowless yet starved-of-privacy room later, Cassandra was back on the scale re-secured and dressed in nothing but a snow-white tunic that ended at her knees. Somehow this made the cold of the shackles on her ankles and the rust painted scale under her still-bare feet bite with a greater vengeance. Still dripping from head to toe probably had something to do with that.</p><p><em>“Guard-butchers don’t get the privilege of towels,”</em> The guard who’d slung her tunic in her face had said and she’d made no defense.</p><p>The numbers in the scale stopped and the Lieutenant relayed, “Mark eight stones and fourteen pounds and get the numbers to the Captain, private. That’s all we need for the tests. You two return her to her cell until—”</p><p>A guard stepped in and saluted, “Mr. Hennor’s arrived, Lieutenant.”</p><p>“Until that.” Maynard directed her guards, “Replace the gag. She has a visitor.”</p><p>A new chill ran through the level and through Cassandra when the visitor—a top-hatted man who resembled a dark licorice stick leeched of any and all sweetness—was permitted entry: Mr. Hennor, the kingdom’s Undertaker.</p><p>A nod to Maynard and the man’s flat eyes turned on her. A flash of recognition, almost sorrow, before the matter at hand pushed it away. Who she was had no more meaning except in way of business. That one gaze surpassed the gallows. That one gaze said it all: For this visit, Cassandra was already and only a corpse.</p><p>“Lay her down, please,” He said.</p><p>The measurements for the gallows had been new, unfamiliar, but this part she knew to expect. She didn’t fight protocol, her chains, or her guards as they followed the undertaker’s instructions for the whole visit and stretched her out, quelled the restless jumping in her leg, and measured her from end to end, side to side, and around her skull.</p><p>“Straighten the head, if you please, gentlemen.”</p><p>It was a lot of detailed work just to be dumped in the end result of a cheap pine coffin and stored in an unmarked hole under the dungeon courtyard but she knew protocol. She understood protocol. She could endure protocol.</p><p>A steel pen point inked a number three on her arm just beside her brand to match the one in his notepad. “The body is complete. I have already been to measure the two men and in the morning, I shall bring…”</p><p>Outside an adjacent cell, her Director’s scratched up golden pocket watch still in a holding bucket was the single thing that kept her from regretting all the protocol.</p><hr/><p>As she was being re-secured in her cell, one of her six guards offered, “You can order anything for your last meal.” The leather belt for the morning was removed from her hips and a charcoal stub was stuffed in her fingers before a pad of paper was held out for her. “Put your requests down and we’ll make all your final wishes come to be, milady.”</p><p>Thoughts of banana cream pie, grapes, roast beef, beer, a cactus still with all its pick-like points strolled through her mind, but they were dismissed. She couldn’t eat a bite if she were delivered a feast. There was only one request she wanted fulfilled and it had nothing to do with food or her freedom.</p><p>Cassandra glanced again to the golden watch across the way and wrote: <em>I want to talk to my Director.</em></p><p>And it was granted.</p><hr/><p>Out the window, a sand-dummy drooped from the new gallows like a flag after a battle lost. It had yet to fall in its first test as the guards were still arranging the fresh rope and shouting back and forth about proper speed and distance of the plunge with such vigor you’d think they were the ones scheduled to drop.</p><p>The dummy had yet to fall, but Cassandra still couldn’t look away from its stillness. Not even the breaths of breeze could bring it life or voice.</p><p>Come morning, that would be her.</p><p>“I’m here, honey,” Her Director said as he entered the level tight on the heels of a guard.</p><p>A smile pulled at her lips within the muzzle, she willed it to show and linger in her eyes.</p><p>“Wait here,” The guard said as he entered and re-locked the cell door with her steaming Director on the outside.</p><p>“You’re going to make us talk through the bars? For her last request?”</p><p>Beneath the young man’s beacon helmet, cogs of some sort turned at a speed that wouldn’t disturb the cities of cobwebs therein. “I will speak with the Captain.” The guard towered over her and ordered, “Face the wall.”</p><p>A tall order with only three links between her back and the wall, but a few twists had her forehead pressed to the grimy stones nonetheless. The pretzeling of her arms was a small price to pay for the ridding of the muzzle. It wasn’t clear if the clicking in her skull was the unlocking of the leather straps or of her jaw but Cass let a moan slip out along with the mouthpiece either way.</p><p>She took the guard slamming and re-locking the cell as her invitation to turn back around. Right into the stampede of her Director’s concern.</p><p>“Cassandra, are you okay?” He knelt to grasp the other side of the bars. “Have they hurt you?”</p><p>“I’m—” A coughing fit cut her off. The muzzle’s metal slab had been drying her mouth with little reprieve for over seven hours. And that was just as long as she’d been conscious.</p><p>Her Director snapped at the remnant of the half dozen sentries, “Do I still have to tell you lot how to do your jobs? Get her some water!”</p><p>The nearest guard squeaked into action and a full copper cup was put to her lips before the dust from his post could settle. Fine with her.</p><p>The last rolling drop in the cup teased her as it was pulled away but she forced herself not to strain after it. The crystal water revived her enough. And once the guard exited Cass tried again to answer his first question and the one now leaping from her Director’s eyes about a second cup, “I’m fine.”</p><p>A scoff was not what she expected.</p><p>“You’re clearly <em>not.</em> What full blown insanity got into your head to make you come back here? I let you go so you wouldn’t be put through—” He gestured to the sets of shackles binding her, to the gallows out the window, and hit the bars. “—precisely this!”</p><p>“You let me go.” That moment in the garden hadn’t stopped replaying in Cass’ mind since it’d happened. The struggle between them that’d lasted far longer than the one in the throne room a year ago and had a completely different outcome, the moment he finally picked her side over theirs. Her life over his. It changed everything. “I couldn’t do the same for you.”</p><p>The same terror for her life she saw in his eyes that moment in the garden still shone in them now. “You should have. Cassandra, this isn’t—"</p><p>Clipped steps proceeded the re-entry of her sixth guard to the level. He stopped in front of her door but addressed her Director, “The Captain said I am to collect your weapons before I can allow you in.”</p><p>Her Director’s sword belt and each weapon from every hidden spot on his person were already being handed over.</p><p>When the guard locked the door behind him, he said, “You have ten more minutes.” A sharp three steps across the level and the guard resumed his post facing the cell.</p><p>Cassandra rolled her eyes. A grand gift of privacy to talk if she’d ever seen one. Her Director ignored them entirely.</p><p>“I’ve just spent the entirety of yesterday examining our suite with Fitzherbert. This isn’t something you have to pay for.” He took a seat close beside her on the stone floor—practically squashing her—until he lifted her as far as the chains would allow onto his lap. The squashing her in his arms still remained.</p><p>Cassandra did nothing to change the embrace.</p><p>He continued, “I know it wasn’t your fault. Those guards weren’t ours and the two that were, the ones those imposters took the place of, were found dead in barrels on the opposite side of the palace. I’ve spent all of today trying to convince the Captain and the King of the clear set up and I’ll be going right back to it after I leave here.”</p><p>“Why? The King’s not going to change his mind.”</p><p>“He will if he can understand the Guard was infiltrated by some unknown force—”</p><p>“It was Zhan Tiri,” Cass said while the arms around her tensed. “She came for the Moonstone but ordered them to attack me when I wouldn’t hand it over.” <em>Or go through with taking the Sundrop from the Princess’ dead body,</em> she left out.</p><p>He breathed the name of the demon and said, “That’ll change everything.”</p><p>“You know it won’t. If the King accepts it at all, he’ll just think we formed an alliance again.”</p><p>“Well what about the Moonstone?” He pulled her back by her shoulders. A clawing hope clear on his face. “Maybe—surely, if you offered it…?”</p><p>But for all Varian told her about how to release the MRDs, he’d left out one piece: “I don’t know how to get it out of me.”</p><p>The hope deflated.</p><p>“Replacement is ready, Captain!” Came a shout from the courtyard beyond her window. A guard carrying a second, better proportioned, flour sack dummy up the many stairs of the gallows appeared a couple seconds later. The Lieutenant along with the executioner—who was wringing a fresh hearty rope—followed the guard up to the platform while the Captain and several other guards carrying notepads went below or surrounded the gallows.</p><p>“Anderson! What’s the status on those mounting rings?” The Lieutenant called across the yard and began a back and forth that rattled her ears and lost her interest as the work with the dummy’s positioning at the top progressed.</p><p>Her Director angling her away again by a shoulder brought her back in. He didn’t hide his frown as he asked, “Why are you in this?”</p><p>She frowned right back. “You know this is protocol for condemned traitors to wear to their—”</p><p>“I know <em>why</em> you’re wearing it,” He gritted out, “I meant why <em>now</em>. It’s not time—not time yet.”</p><p>She gave the long and involved story: “My armor was too heavy for an accurate reading. On the scale.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>A thunderous thud in the courtyard proceeded, “Door and lever communication functioning at .5 seconds, Sir!”</p><p>“Five?” The Captain cried, sounding at the end of his own rope, “No, no, no. I need two points shaved off of that, private!”</p><p>Cassandra had no clue what Fitzherbert was doing. She wondered if he even had a clue.</p><p>“Did you ever consider me to be your successor for Captainship? Had I ever…” She pushed through the lump in her throat. “Earned it?”</p><p>“Are you kidding?” He huffed, “You should know one of the hardest days of my life was the day I retired from my position.”</p><p>It’d been a shock to Cass the day she’d found Fitzherbert’s shoulders bearing the Captain’s rank. The first thought had been the worst, that her Director hadn’t made it out of the cave-in she’d created in the maze. The truth hurt almost as much. But even with that, “That doesn’t surprise me. You’ve been in the Guard since I was born. Giving that up was a big loss.”</p><p>“It wasn’t that,” He said, “It was who I was handing the command off to; Fitzherbert and not you. It wasn’t what either of us had ever dreamed. It wasn’t who my file recorded as my replacement should anything happen to me for the last five years, your lady-in-waiting position be damned. It certainly wasn’t going to Maynard if I had any say.”</p><p>Oh. All those years of waiting, thinking she was only being passed over… It wouldn’t’ve been for nothing. Her dream had been attainable. If only she’d waited a bit more. The thought made every inch of her ache for a reason that had nothing to do with the Moonstone. She tucked the truth away… and smirked. “So, you’re telling me if one of those rocks had taken care of you in the maze, I would’ve been promoted?”</p><p>He chuckled, “Well I think killing me might’ve put a bit of a bump in the whole transferring process, but…”</p><p>A short chuckle of her own broke out despite her best efforts. But it eased the way for her to rest her head against his shoulder. She confessed to the wrinkles in his dark jacket, “I’m sorry I let you down.”</p><p>She didn’t deserve the forgiveness, he had to know that after <em>everything</em> from the past two years, but he only held her closer. Only pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Never.”</p><p>“Set, Captain! Rope test with the weight!”</p><p>The guard’s shout commanded both of their attention and they both held their breath as those on the platform stepped back from the trap door.</p><p>The call rang out, “Release!”</p><p>The straight plummet of seven feet ended by a jolt to the dummy’s neck shot through Cass.</p><p>Commentary of miscalculation erupted through the soldiers gathered as the dummy continued to bounce like a yo-yo, sand pouring from its torn neck.</p><p>It took Cassandra’s voice a moment to remember how to work. The metal slab of the muzzle tasting like it’d made a reappearance on her tongue. “That’s… not how it’s normally done.”</p><p>Her Director was a ghost, unable to look away from the scene. “The Captain came up with a new technique. It’s supposed to be… quicker.”</p><p>The mutilated dummy filled her view again. “Thoughtful.”</p><p>The guards ran the test again. This time the dummy dropped without any bounce. Of its body anyway. The head rocketed straight off at the jolt and landed not far from her window.</p><p>It was her turn to be a ghost. Was that supposed to happen?</p><p>Her Director held her tighter. “That won’t be you.”</p><p>They ran it twice more after fixing the dummy and each time only a puff of sand left the side of it’s neck at the jolt. No bouncing. No decapitation. It hung perfectly crooked on the noose. Smiles—and she wouldn’t be surprised if drinks soon—all spread amongst most of the soldiers.</p><p>Her Director only repeated, “That won’t be you.”</p><p>Cass shivered with the swaying dummy. “It will. They won’t change—"</p><p>“No. It won’t be you, Cassandra. The Princess and I will get the King to change his mind. I’m not going to let anyone take you from me. Don’t you dare give up on me now, soldier—”</p><p>“Sir.” The senior guard still holding her Director’s weapons unlocked the cell. “Times up.”</p><p>Her Director fell as still and silent as the test-weight outside. “Can we have another minute?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I already gave you two, Sir.” The guard said with an apologetic smile.</p><p>The arms around her were stronger than her chains. The pull to just close her eyes, close out the world, and disappear into them tempted her. Greatly. And for all of a second, Cassandra gave into it.</p><p>Then she made herself pull away.</p><p>Her Director stood as though in a dream. He didn’t move for the door.</p><p>“Sir,” The guard called again, and spared her a prompting glance while every hand in the hall crept to a sword hilt.</p><p>Cass’ breath shook on the intake but it still gave her the needed strength to say, “Goodbye, Dad.”</p><p>It didn’t push him. The words sent him back to a knee. “I’m not saying goodbye.”</p><p>“You don’t have to.”</p><p>“I’m not saying goodbye because it’s not. The King will change his mind. I’m going to see you later.” He brushed her bangs back before his palm—trembling just enough so only the two of them could notice—came to rest on her cheek and he insisted, “I’ll see you later.”</p><p>Cass’ smile was wistful as she watched the cell door close between them again. She didn’t watch him leave, choosing instead to follow the dummy’s removal before she agreed, echoing, “See you later.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My sincerest apologies that I couldn't figure out where to work in this little bit with my self-imposed deadline but I was also going to have Cass and her dad talk about this:<br/>Cass- "You took the pins out of the owl, didn’t you?”<br/>Her dad- “I’m embarrassed really that it took me as long as it did to find your stash.”</p><p>Talking with my beta reader (my mom) I wanted to mention that that bit with her Director/dad's pocket watch in the undertaker scene was because she was kind of grounding herself through that traumatic moment in reminding herself that she was taking his place. I hope that made sense I've been up writing for far too long non-stop today XD</p><p>Also my apologies that I couldn't get All of the story up today (Especially to Flossy as I wasn't able to get your requested one-shot up today either) but STAY CLOSE BY! The remaining chapters and one-shot are coming Super Duper soon! They're all in the editing stages!</p><p>*P.P.P.P.S. Yes, I had Eugene invent the long drop XD In history at this time the short drop was used (strangulation vs. breaking the neck), but I didn't want to do the short drop SO, here's the result.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Execution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update! If you're considering leaving the story at the end of this chapter PLEASE don't decide until after you read onto the next chapter. Thank you and happy reading!</p><p>If you want maximum feels, instrumental soundtrack for this chapter is "Atonement" by Ramin Djawadi. Don't forget to put it on repeat! :)</p><p>Execution/death theme tags/triggers apply to this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cassandra awoke with the dawn.</p><p>The candy pink light gracing the stones of her cell crept up to her face but she felt none of its heat. The sandpaper floor, the wall, the chains imprisoning her upright were just as dull and meaningless. Nothing could reach her except a single shrill hum that numbed everything but one fact:  She was dying today.</p><p>Out the barred window, the gallows grew taller in the rising light. Cassandra looked at nothing else.</p><p>The sound of boots approached, slow and dragging as though the wearer were the condemned instead.</p><p>“Cass,” Fitzherbert called, as lifeless as his footfalls.</p><p>The buzzing didn’t allow her to blink or breathe as she turned to find the hall filled to bursting with more guards and the Captain in the open cell’s doorway.</p><p>She hadn’t heard it unlock. Hadn’t expected it to so soon.</p><p>Fitzherbert dragged his gaze across everything but the gallows and said the words Cass had accepted the moment her knees hit the dais: “Time to go.”</p>
<hr/><p>Cassandra’s chains clanked and scraped across the grey cobblestones as she was led out into the dungeon’s fortified courtyard, the sounds violating the watchful silence. Very little of the columned space was visible beyond her personal golden guards and the ones that lined the walkways of each level shoulder to shoulder, halberd to halberd—The mountainous gallows being the exception.</p><p>“Keep walking,” One guard to her rear said, his command punctuated with a shove.</p><p>The Captain didn’t turn to check on her but their pace slowed to a snail’s crawl just the same.</p><p>The balcony jutting from the highest level where the royal family would witness the event told her it didn’t matter their speed. It didn’t matter that only the Queen was in attendance while the two seats beside her were notably empty. No one was calling this off. Not even the power scrambling in Cass’ core could change the fact that she wouldn’t be walking out of this courtyard.</p><p>For that reason, when the shadows of the platform and a circling, crying, Owl fell over them, Cassandra kept her gaze straight ahead and ignored her father’s struggles and shouts of her name from beyond another border of guards until the Captain reached the first stair and her guard thinned to climb.</p><p>Bare knuckled and blazing, his pure pallor undermined the ferocity in his voice. “Out of my way! It wasn’t her fault!”</p><p><em>Don’t do anything stupid once this is over. Move back to the cottage and tend to Silas and your anthill of a vegetable garden. Grow grapes. I forgive you. I’m sorry for everything. Thank you for always being here for me</em>. All of those things that she didn’t have the strength or the time to say and more rushed through her mind as they tugged her forward a step. Her teeth started to chatter and she found she had no voice to speak at all.</p><p>“Fight this, Cassandra!” Her dad cried as he did exactly as he was instructing, “Fight!”</p><p>Her toes hit the wood of the first step. The guards shifted their hold on her arms preparing to haul her up if she delayed them for another second so she chose what summed up everything she had left to say and mouthed, “<em>I love you.”</em></p><p>He said it back in the fervor of his curses and blows to the guards.</p><p>Fitzherbert and half of her guard didn’t go with her any further than the first flight as it was protocol for the Captain to see justice meted out from the ground. Weight on the platform also being a concern.</p><p>The Captain had eyes only for the Royal family’s balcony as he stepped aside to send them on up the last two flights.</p><p>Cass’ toes braced against the side of that first stair too. “I’ll say my last words here.”</p><p>The Captain nodded his permission to the guards and they pulled her back a step, ready for a speech. But she only had a warning to give.</p><p>“Zhan Tiri’s going to come for the stone. I hope you won’t be dumb enough to let her get the advantage or surprised when she doesn’t stop with coming after me.”</p><p>The Captain dragged his hands behind his back and forced out a distant, “Thank you for telling me.”</p><p>The guards tugged her onward but the cries from below pushed her to say one last thing, make one final request. “And Eugene?”</p><p>The Captain halted his men.</p><p>Cass breathed, “Let my dad bury me.”</p><p>The Captain sought the balcony again. “Blondie might still be able to come through for us. But if not…” His gaze fell to his feet. “You have my word. Truly, it’s the very least that I owe you.”</p><p>“It’s not for me,” She said and didn’t resist the guards’ pull again.</p><p>The chilled wood at the top stung her bare feet. It lacked any give, groans, or creaks to resemble the royal ship the glossed platform had to have been birthed from. There was no chance the structure would fall. No doubt it would do perfectly in its sole purpose. The pink sun continued to touch more and more of the platform but it only grew colder beneath her every step across.</p><p>The square outline in the middle of the floor was her stop. Two guards arranged Cass on the thin door; one toed a chalk scratch on the wood. “Line up with the mark,” He said.</p><p>Her ankle chain was shortened to baby step impossibility and when the guard straightened, Corona’s town square clock began to toll the seventh hour. An hour later than protocol dictated. But seven or six, the lever to her left would still be thrown on the hour. No sooner, no later.</p><p>At the second toll, Cassandra looked beyond the platform, avoiding what dangled just ahead.</p><p>From beside his wagon of coffins parked under the shaded walkway, Mr. Hennor tipped his hat in farewell— and perhaps as a thanks for the business.</p><p>The medic’s plain refusal to even look at the gallows along with her dad’s rioting almost drowned out the third toll.</p><p>Four and it wasn’t clear if it was a countdown only for her or for all of Corona with a new glow of lavender and a crocodile’s grin peeking out from behind a corner of the undertaker’s wagon. Zhan Tiri. Watching. Waiting. Confident of victory.</p><p>Five and the executioner stood behind her. Owl perched and ruffled on the far wall was the last thing she saw before the black blindfold was tied on.</p><p>Six tolls. <em>Breathe in.</em></p><p>The coarse noose was pulled over her head, the knot slid down, and the executioner and the guards at her side stepped away.</p><p>
  <em>Breathe out.</em>
</p><p>Seven tolls.</p><p><em>“Stop! Stop the execution!” </em>The voices of both the Princess and the King called from somewhere in the courtyard below.</p><p>But the cry came the second after the executioner threw the lever.</p><p>A second after the door dropped from under Cassandra’s feet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I adore comments but I understand if you want to read onto 22 now.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The Return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone for all your awesome comments and for all the kudos for this story; We reached 100! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Cassandra!”</em>
</p><p>His daughter plummeted through the gallows’ trapdoor and the Director stopped fighting. At that door’s damning thud all he could do was scream her name.</p><p>The Princess repelling down on her hair did the same.</p><p>A flash of white and red under the gallows and the Director couldn’t break through the line of relenting guards fast enough.</p><p>“Move!” He said, shoving through another group; this one having gathered to gawk between the structure. What the Director saw had him gaping too and nearly drove him to his knees.</p><p>Fitzherbert, ever the quick-reflexive thief, had caught Cassandra in midair. His crushing bear hold around her legs the only thing keeping all of her weight from being on the rope.</p><p>But Cassandra was completely limp.</p><p>A sob sent the Director staggering. <em>No. No, please don’t let it be too late.</em></p><p>Her head wrenched to the exact opposite direction of the knot and that horrible limpness and stillness was all the indication to go on from his angle that Cass wasn’t conscious. And it was enough. It was more than enough.</p><p>“It jerked,” Eugene said, voice hitching but thank the heavens the rest of him didn’t move. “The rope jerked. I don’t know if she’s—”</p><p>He didn’t need to hear anymore. The father was pushed to the side and the seasoned soldier took over. He barked to anyone within range, “I need a chair, a stool now!” To the Captain, “Keep still, Fitzherbert.” Up through the trapdoor to the sword-bearing executioner, “Do <em>not</em> touch that rope!”</p><p>Oh heaven above that rope. Worse still the damage inflicted by it. Violent was too tame a word for the redness and surfacing veins on her neck, the bruises darkening before his eyes, and the swelling rising around the noose's grip. Now on a stool behind Cass, her eyes were still shielded by the blindfold but her lips--parted and slack-- further confirmed her loss of consciousness. A part of him couldn't help but be relieved by that. It meant she wasn't feeling any of this. </p><p>"Give us room!" The medic rushed through the gathered guards and the shaking Princess with his blessed bag in tow, his assistant already fleeing to get a stretcher. “Is she breathing?"</p><p>"No," Both he and Fitzherbert answered. Not even a tickle of breath could be felt coming from her airways.</p><p>“Captain,” The other guard now helping support Cass murmured and the pair stared at some space below her tunic.</p><p>The stench of body waste rose in the air.</p><p>Earthquakes ransacked Fitzherbert’s words, “Guys… I-I think she’s—”</p><p>“Still alive. I’ve got a pulse,” The Director said. For one single second he spared the kid his full attention. “Don’t you dare <em>twitch</em>, Fitzherbert.”</p><p>The medic was beside him on a second stool and took over tracking her pulse while his eyes kept up a knowledgeable assessment. “The spinal cord hasn’t been cut but that could change with one wrong move,” He said, confirming the Director's suspicions. “Constriction cannot be allowed to continue or we’ll lose her that way very soon."</p><p>“We need to get her level," He said and the medic confirmed. He addressed the Captain and the closest to them, “Here’s what we’re going to do: We’re gonna get her leveled out and then lower her to the ground. That means we’re all to move as one unit, slowly and smoothly. If you're not already touching her and you don’t have steady hands, don’t help.”</p><p>"I'm going to need to get her breathing again once she's flat so I'm going to trust you with stabilizing her neck for this," The medic told him as two more men stepped up to support Cassandra's middle. "Follow my instructions <em>exactly."</em></p><p>It was a team effort, it was sweat-inducing work, it was slow enough that winter might've set in but by the time the rest of the medic's team arrived with a stretcher, they'd gotten Cassandra settled on the stones. He wasn't allowed to stop cradling her neck even once the rope was removed. A deep V-shaped valley left behind in her neck from the hangman's knot burned itself into the Director's mind before a white and leather brace was fitted over it. Only then was he allowed to move. And breathe.</p><p>"Eugene!" Rapunzel sobbed.</p><p>The Captain ripped around to gather the Princess in his arms where the pair broke into hyperventilating tears.</p><p>"The carotid arteries and jugular veins suffered constriction for almost two minutes," The medic relayed as they lifted Cassandra on the stretcher. "Patient's control of respiratory system not returning. We need…"</p><p>As they rushed Cassandra into the palace the Director wasn't sure who followed or who stayed. He wasn't sure what the information still streaming from the medic incessantly meant for his daughter. He wasn't even sure where they were headed. He only stayed glued to the heels of the medic. Glued to the side of the stretcher.</p><p>A trick of the light from the passing windows almost convinced him Cass' hair lost its magic blue but it was back in the next blink so he couldn't be sure of that either. </p><p>“Please let us work, sir. We will come to you if we have any news,” The eldest assistant said when they reached the medical wing's first room and cut off any view of his daughter with the shut door.</p><p>The huddled mass of Fitzherbert and the Princess were watching him like unblinking lost little toddlers when he crossed to lean against the marble column a few windows away.</p><p>He smiled. “She’s uh…”<em> Gonna be okay. They know what they’re doing. We weren’t too late. </em>“She’s…”</p><p>The couple were still listening to him with bated breath but the words weren’t coming.</p><p>They still wouldn’t come but his smile grew with a sighing chuckle. A rub of his hands over his face. Sun, he could use a wash. Or a nap.</p><p>Delightfully, as he slid down from marble column to tiles his body decided he’d take that last one without further deliberation.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Four days later…</strong>
</p><p>Cassandra’s hand was so small in his hand, just as it always had been. So small. So fragile.</p><p>That last part was all too new.</p><p>An apology tumbled from the Director each time he had to smooth away the tears that’d rolled onto her limp fingers. She didn’t need that weight. He would’ve spared her from them entirely if he had the strength to leave the room or let go. But neither was an option after the last few days.</p><p>Between the science kid’s armoire-box-contraption breathing for his daughter with its army of tubes and the brace enveloping her neck and shoulders, only her hand was left free to anchor him.</p><p>The hushed conversation going on in the back of the room also kept him afloat.</p><p>“Captain Fitzherbert, I want to throw you a parade,” The Medic said, barely audible over the machine’s clicking breaths. “From what I witnessed at the gallows and now having fully examined Cassandra, one thing is evident: Your timing was an absolute miracle. You caught her in just the millisecond of time before her spinal cord could be irreversibly severed. While it was too late to stop the damage to the cord or the fracture in her spine… you saved her life.”</p><p>A hero. The man was an undeniable hero. Even with the cup banded over Cass’ airways, the blood-red freckles and smoke dark bruises strewn across her closed eyelids—both from the asphyxiation in the noose he’d been told— even with every cough an assistant had to induce for her with sharp compressions so she didn’t fall to illness too, even with every frown the medic directed down at Cass when he thought no one was watching, it remained true. And he reminded himself of that. Fitzherbert may’ve been part of the cause but he’d saved her life in the end. Cassandra was still alive. Still with him.</p><p>“But she’s paralyzed?” Fitzherbert asked.</p><p>Another pair of his tears splashed onto his daughter’s hand as the medic re-confirmed, “She is. I’ll be able to know more in full about the extent of it once she wakes but it’s already clear Cassandra lacks any nerve response or muscle control below the location of her injury. It’s unclear at this point how much longer she will need to stay on the breath support and what other symptoms or complications may reveal themselves.”</p><p>Rapunzel’s tearful but still hope-strengthened voice filled the silence, “But all of that can be reversed, right? Cass won’t be like this forever.”</p><p>“Recovery started the moment after the injury and we will continue to pursue it with our all, but as for a full reversal? At this point, the likelihood of her regaining even a pinkie’s movement…”</p><p>The medic’s unspoken words hung like an anvil over their heads and the Princess’ hope gave way as she sunk back into her chair and sobs.</p><p>“I wish I had better news, Your Highness, I truly do.”</p><p>The Director pressed his daughter’s pinky to his lips. He willed every ounce of strength in his body to pass to hers. “I think this is the longest you’ve held still in your entire life, little one,” He whispered, watching, suffocating. </p><p>The unnatural blue of Cass’ hair flickered out to true black… and back again to blue. Just as it had been doing since the almost-execution. His heart still dropped in time with the flickers. They reminded him that more still than her mobility hung in the balance.</p><p>“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if you— if I won’t have to chase you around all over creation anymore,” He said, "Tell me that’s not gonna be the case. Tell me I’ll be back to keeping you from getting into things you shouldn’t be getting into and going bald from it all too soon?”</p><p>He wiped more streams of tears off her pale hand when the only sound, the only movement she made was the rising and falling in her chest that the clicking machine made for her.</p>
<hr/><p>“Sir,” An assistant said, causing the Director’s eyes to burn in a rare blink. The sunlight only worsening the burn. Or was that moonlight? Candlelight?</p><p>“Sir, maybe it would be wise to visit your more comfortable quarters for a bit? Take a nap. Get a good meal. I can have someone send a fresh tray to your room? We will continue to take good care of your daughter in the meantime.”</p><p>The kid’s effort was valiant but… “I’ll go back to my quarters once she does.”</p>
<hr/><p>Sometime later the medic took a different approach.</p><p>“You’re becoming a hazard for my patient and staff via toxic odor and worry. Go take a break from your watch, soldier. We have this handled and we’ll come get you if anything changes.”</p><p>He kept hold of Cass’ hand and moved as much as the room’s dried candle wax. “Only way you’re kicking me out of here is in a box.”</p><p>As it turned out when he woke hours later beside a tray of steaming vegetables and half a roasted turkey in his own bedroom, he discovered there was a second way called sedation along with a frying-pan wielding Princess blocking the outside of his door.</p><p>He complied until the next sunrise.</p>
<hr/><p>Glowing blue turned to muted black.</p><p>And back.</p><p>And back.</p><p>He thought he’d missed the natural black that was truly his daughter’s hair.</p><p>Blue and black.</p><p>Blue and black.</p><p>He didn’t ever want to see the black stay again.</p>
<hr/><p>“Why is this number still on her arm?” He growled to the deer-eyed assistant emptying his daughter’s bed pan.</p><p>The boy stammered, “I don’t—number? Sir?”</p><p>“That’s what I said, son. The number for her coffin. Get it off. No one’s burying her anytime soon.”</p><p>The unshaven medic appeared at his side, a soapy cloth offered to him in one hand, the other pushing the Director back down by his shoulder into his seat—a daily occurrence by now—but he only mumbled in a voice that revealed it was a miracle he was still on his feet, “Please refrain from scaring off my staff; We all have the same hopes.”</p><p>The washcloth froze above his daughter’s arm.</p><p><em>Hopes</em>…</p><p>He’d never known he could despise that word.</p>
<hr/><p>The word was redeemed in part on day six when they were able to take her off the breathing machine.</p><p>The word was redeemed in full on day eight when Cassandra opened her eyes for the first time.</p><p>His chair toppled to the floor as he jumped up, still clutching her hand. “Cassandra?”</p><p>The medic was there in the next breath evaluating hers. “Well a hearty good morning to you, young lady.” Gentle fingers tracked her pulse and sought out any muscle movement. “How’re you feel—?”</p><p>The soaring hope twisted into a knife of grief when those hazy blues shut again—squeezed shut—and the smallest of whimpers left her lips.</p><p>“She’s in pain,” The Director snapped.</p><p>“Yes, I did gather that.” The medic called to one of his assistants beyond the closed doors before returning to his examining and asked, “Cassandra, can you tell me where exactly it is you’re hurting? Is it your neck or elsewhere? …Cassandra? And… sleep has stolen my patient yet again.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Sir?”</p><p>A crick in his neck born from the failure of a chair put a sharp edge to his grumble, “Will you make up your minds? I thought you pinheads wanted me to sleep.”</p><p>“Oh we absolutely do,” The kid mumbled, then clearer, “Your daughter’s awake. She’s asking for you.”</p><p>“Da…Dad!” A squeak of tears. “Dad…!”</p><p>“He’s right here beside you, Cassandra. You’re safe.”</p><p>“Cassandra,” He lurched to his feet. Those swimming jeweled eyes latched onto him as though he were the last drop of water on earth. “Hey, little one. I’m here. Dad’s here. How’re you feeling?”</p><p>“I,” Cass wheezed. A blink had the tears streaming down into her hair but then they shot back open bigger than before. “I’m… not…! I… move!”</p><p>Everything in him shattered onto the floor. Not only at her words, but at her speech: drawn out and strained. A strain not only to find the right words like when she was young but also to push out and pronounce. A glance at the Medic told him it wasn’t unexpected but it also wasn’t a good sign.</p><p>He also knew what she was trying to say and it pierced him perfectly through the heart. “I know you can’t move, honey. I know. I’m right here for ya, anything you need I’m right here.”</p><p>“No! Dad! Where… where…?”</p><p>Her eyes grew distant, searching, but the urgency of her tone kept him in close and gave him a desperation to help her search for both the question and the answer. When she remained silent and lost, he prompted with a gentle, questioning hum.</p><p>Her gaze slid back to his. The urgency persisted. “Where my… where… body…? …Gone…?”</p><p>“It’s not gone, honey, your body’s right here. You’re just hurt right now.”</p><p>“Not… Feel.” A shallow gasp. “Not feel… it…”</p><p>The Director sniffed hard and caught a rebel tear before anything else could touch her and bring her harm. “I know you can’t feel it.”</p><p>“The lack of feeling is because of your injury, Cassandra,” The medic chimed in from her other side, “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be working alongside you to get the connection with your body back bit by bit.”</p><p>“Body…body… Yeah. Gone body…” Her focus slid away to search again and didn’t return before a nap reclaimed her.</p>
<hr/><p>Ninety-two days in the hospital wing passed and a moment without excitement or progress was as rare as a shoe-wearing Rapunzel.</p><p>At the fifteen-day mark, Cassandra began lessons with the medic for recovering her speech, attention span, and strengthening all muscles above her injury—this included lessons in chewing which she never failed to wrinkle her nose at. Observation and tests for any returning sensation or strength below Cass’ injury continued without change.</p><p>At eighteen days, the Director started his own lessons in how to better assist his daughter. Pride be damned. From arm and leg massages to keep blot clots from forming to knowing what signs to check on for bedsores to helping her stay hydrated without drenching her or the sheets. Keeping her covered with feather soft blankets the Princess had made, reading, humming, and talking to her he already had down with no help whatsoever. He even got a smile for a joke here and there.</p><p>At twenty-one days, Cassandra was moved into a different, less sterile-instrument crowded and more plant and window brightened room with a washroom, a second bed, and a well-cushioned green rocking chair. A bone-stiff chair identical to the one from the urgent room had existed in the room for exactly four seconds before the rocking chair was transplanted in order to spare the other chair’s life from the Director.</p><p>At twenty-four days, Cassandra's attention and comprehension returned to her normal level. That evening the Director woke to wheezing moans and they found she’d developed an infection.</p><p>Day twenty-six, Cassandra was put back on the breathing machine.</p><p>Day twenty-nine, she could breathe on her own again and the Director fell into a two-day sleep.</p><p>At thirty-three days, Cass was made aware that the King had ordered a stay of execution and—in answer to her first question—no, he wouldn’t be taking it back. The Director explained that Rapunzel had shown and taken her father to the crime-scene-suite herself the morning of the hanging despite her father having dismissed the clear evidence of a set up that the Captain had presented and pushed. And that trip—along with Rapunzel begging on her knees—had changed his decree. Permanently. Finally.</p><p>By two months, Cassandra’s lessons with the medic switched from a heavy focus on her speech to more nerve and muscle exercise with her arms and hands. Nerve and muscle <em>encouragement </em>Cass liked to call it as it consisted of one hundred percent effort from the medic to manipulate her limbs and ask, “Can you feel anything when we do this? Can you try to hold this position with me?” and always giving him the same answer, “No.”</p><p>Day seventy, Cassandra pushed the medic for a straight-shooting answer on if she would be paralyzed for the rest of her life. His answer left her mute for a week.</p><p>By day seventy-eight, a medic-permitted-and-ordered-visit from Owl gifted Cass a reminder of what life was like without the grinding pain of her injury. A glorious thirty seconds.</p><p>And by day eighty-nine, oh blessed eighty-nine, Cassandra was relieved of her neck brace.</p><p>Now at day ninety-three, they’d moved out of the hospital wing altogether and into a new suite—complete with their own small kitchen, or rather, butler’s pantry— on the other side of the palace’s level.</p><p>“We still have our daily meet and greets, my dear, so please don’t celebrate being free of me just yet,” The medic said with a twinkle in his eye that revealed he was just as ecstatic for this graduation as they were. “And as a reminder, one of my assistants will be here starting after your evening meal to give your dad a chance to sleep. I do wish you’d reconsider the offer of a daytime aid too, but I understand you want your privacy.”</p><p>The brakes on the wheels of Cass’ bed squawked into place like a christening for her new bedroom while she just smiled a hollow thanks to the medic. The smile stayed until it was discovered to be the dismissal to everyone in the room.</p><p>It took two hours for the Director to get a few winks of sleep in the new space with new sounds or lack thereof, in the new suite, in the new room with no quick way of knowing if his daughter was alive or still dangling from that platform.</p>
<hr/><p>There wasn’t much Cassandra remembered from her earliest days in the hospital wing. In fact, there were only three things: Pain, her dad weeping, and the answer on how to remove the Moonstone from her own body.</p><p>And it was that last thing that she thought on now in her first moment of total privacy.</p><p>She just had to let go. It was as simple and as complex as that.</p><p>“So, you’ve finally figured out the secret. The secret that everyone’s been telling you from the beginning for the record,” Her twin said from where she leaned against the white pole footboard.</p><p>And she couldn’t say she was surprised to see her, nor, for the first time, displeased.</p><p>“I…have,” She said. More than just the secret to the stone, but the secret to her. Strange now that she knew the secret to make her twin leave her alone… she didn’t want her to.</p><p>“You won’t miss me,” She said with a dismissive wave. “I was only here until you were thinking straight enough not to need me anymore. And if I’m right… that’s now. You’re sure you know who to give this to? You know what to do with it?”</p><p>Cass could only answer in full conviction, “I do.”</p><p>Those two little words, also equally simple and complex, were all it took.</p><p>The most beautiful smile, one that embodied the peace and cleansing of an exhale, graced her twin’s face. And that beauty spread over the woman until she faded away for the last time with the words, “Then welcome back, Cassandra.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was a humbling thing to see Princess Sun-splotch standing in her door a week later. The ease, the strength with which she accomplished such a feat.</p><p>A minute passed and no words were exchanged. The Princess didn’t enter. The glowing bands—chainless though they were— still on Cassandra’s ankles served to remind each of them she had no power to deny her entry if she so wished. Still, she did nothing to encourage it.</p><p>It brought to mind the time she’d sprained her ankle. The struggle they’d had navigating the injury: The Princess grappling with Cass’ need for the boundary of space, Cass resisting her doting, oceans of frustration, and eventually reaching an understanding.</p><p>Of course, all of the Princess’ actions since— intervening with Cass’ torture, advocating for her at the trial, saving her from execution— all showed blatant disregard for that boundary… But she guessed she could forgive her for that, given the circumstances.</p><p>And looking at her friend in the doorway now— arms wrapped around herself as though forcing herself to keep from leaping to her aid— she could almost see the memory of her past promise shining in her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>From now on, I will only help if you ask me.</em>
</p><p>This was a step she could take.</p><p>So finally, voice barely strong enough to carry the distance, Cass whispered, “I need… help.”</p><p>And Rapunzel blossomed at her que. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I couldn’t determine if Cass’ injury would be a c2, c3, or a c4 but I did the most extensive research on c4 so that’s what I decided on. I also studied videos on stroke survivor’s speech therapy but I’m not sure I captured the patterns well enough and I apologize if this was offensive at all as that was not the intent.</p><p>I'm not feeling too well so it's taking me longer to get these up than I want but chapter 23 will be up as soon as possible! :D</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I've been working on this story for months now and will let you know that it will have 23 chapters and I'm going to do a companion one-shot series to expand on a later part of the story, a companion one-shot that is like a little "six months later" epilogue, AND the other one-shot series (that I will start uploading soon) will be compliant with both canon and this story! They will all be Cass-centric as she is my most favorite character in this fandom :) Also, I do have carpal tunnel and other health issues that keep me from being able to type to frequently so I hope you can be patient with me and know I'm working on this story no matter how long in-between updates. Thank you for reading! Can't wait to hear your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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